


'A Peculiar Engagement'

by Headcanonsandmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, And they were room-mates, Arranged Marriage, But they actually do!, Carrying, Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Engagement, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Kissing, Massage, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Ron Weasley apprecation, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Rough Kissing, Secret Crush, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, They both think the other doesn't fancy them back, romione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headcanonsandmore/pseuds/Headcanonsandmore
Summary: In a universe where Ron and Hermione never managed to express their feelings, the golden trio are currently living as room-mates. However, after Harry leaves to start teaching at Hogwarts, Hermione finds herself living alone with the man she has loved since the age of twelve. To complicate matters; a sudden engagement, night terrors, and bed-sharing enter the picture. (Was rated Teen, but then chapter five happened).





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [burgundydahlia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgundydahlia/gifts).



> Hi everyone! I thought I'd try out writing a fic with some standard tropes in mind, just to give them a play and see what I can do with them. Hope you like this!

Hermione Granger opened her eyes, and groaned.

Her life was… difficult. Yes, even after the war. They had defeated the most evil dark wizard of all time, but peacetime came with its own difficulties.

One of which seemed to rear its head immediately.

‘Hermione, you okay?’

The bushy-haired witch felt the usual pounding of her heart as she pulled her head off her pillow to look at the redheaded young man currently poking his head through her bedroom door.

‘I’m… I’m fine, Ron,’ she said, pushing her untameable hair out of her eyes in a futile attempt to look more put-together. ‘Just a weird dream.’

‘Really?’-The redhead raised a concerned eyebrow-‘You were calling my name. I was worried you were having nightmares about the war-’

‘I said I’m fine, Ron!’ Hermione exclaimed, louder than she intended. She had- in fact- been dreaming about Ron, but _definitely not_ in the way he was thinking about.

Ron pulled away slightly at her harsh tone.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, looking down at his feet. ‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay…’

The door shut with a soft click.

Hermione fell back on her pillow, and covered her face with her hands, groaning.

She’d done it again. It had been the case since they’d been teenagers; whenever Ron caught her off her guard, she’d snap at him and get angry. _Why could she never let her true feelings be known?_

Once again, she had experienced one of her favourite dreams. It involved Ron. And snogging. Lots of it. She thoroughly enjoyed these dreams. When Ron held her close, and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, she felt so complete… so whole… so… _loved_. Unfortunately, those dreams of having Ron passionately kiss her brains out on their kitchen table were just that: _dreams_. There was no way they would ever happen in reality. That was the only downside. Waking up and remembering the reality.

The reality of Ron being her best friend, her room-mate, but nothing more.

The crushing weight of knowing she could never have him always hit her hard first thing after waking up. She tried valiantly to get back to her dream- involving a shirtless Ron and rose petals everywhere- but no such luck. The only Ron she could now visualise was the one she had just yelled at for showing concern for her. Hermione really was her own worst enemy at times.

~~~~~~~~~

After showering and getting changed, Hermione (hair now finally looking nicer) entered the kitchen. Harry was sat at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of porridge.

‘Morning!’ he greeted, cheerfully.

‘Good morning, Harry,’ she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. ‘How was your date last night?’

‘Great, actually,’ Harry grinned, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. ‘Ginny’s as lovely as ever.’

‘Well, duh, mate; she _is_ a Weasley…’

Ron had joined them. He was wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt, which nonetheless still managed to make Hermione’s pulse race. There was something about the way he filled out his clothes that just knocked Hermione’s socks off. It was like the universe was taunting her.

‘Good point,’ Harry chuckled, putting his now-empty in the sink and washing it in hot water. ‘We had a good chat about my new post.’

‘We’re gonna really miss you, mate,’ Ron said, somewhat-dejectedly.

Harry threw Ron an appreciative look over his shoulder.

‘I’m gonna miss you both too, but I really have to move in before the term starts. McGonagall wants to make sure all us teachers are up to speed with lesson-plans and paperwork.’

‘I know…’ Ron pouted, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. ‘But it’s not gonna be the same without you.’

Harry turned to face them, and raised an eyebrow.

‘Bit rude to Hermione, don’t you think, Ron?’

‘That’s-that’s not what I-’ Ron spluttered. Hermione couldn’t help noticing his ears going the tell-tale pink. ‘Hermione, you know what I mean, don’t you?’

Seeing a blushing Ron earnestly asking for her opinion, Hermione lost her train of thought momentarily.

‘E-er, yes!’ She eventually squeaked, trying not to feel too self-conscious.

Harry giggled.

It had been the same since they were at school. Harry knew _full-well_ that Hermione fancied Ron (according to him, it was _glaringly_ obvious). Hermione tried not to think about the implications of that; if she was _so_ obvious, why didn’t Ron say anything? Was it because he only saw her as a friend, and didn’t want to spoil their friendship? Did the idea of Hermione fancying him make Ron _uncomfortable_? Was she _that_ undesirable to him?

Whenever she had voiced these concerns to Harry, he would just roll his eyes.

‘Honestly, it’s not that _at all_ , Hermione,’ he would say, giving her a brotherly pat on the shoulder. ‘You two’ll get there someday…’

Sometimes Hermione felt like Harry had more faith in her than _she_ did. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine how Ron could ever see her in the same way she saw him.

Ron was kind, and funny, and loyal, and brave, and _utterly_ gorgeous. He was a war hero, a hilarious joker, and the greatest friend anyone could possibly ask for. Even after all the time Hermione had known him, she had yet to find someone-else who was as brilliant, as humble, and as heart-stoppingly _wonderful_ as Ronald Bilius Weasley.

How could _he_ , in all his wonder, ever fall for a plain know-it-all like her?

~~~~~~~~

Before long, Harry was stood with his trunk (charmed to be feather-light) by their fireplace.

Ron smothered him in a bear-hug, his eyes watery. Hermione could have sworn that Harry muttered something into Ron’s ear, but she couldn’t hear it over the roar of the magical green flames.

As Ron stepped back, tears falling down his face, Hermione pulled Harry into a hug.

‘We’ll see you at Christmas,’ she said, weepily. ‘Just make sure to write, okay? And you always floo round if you want to catch up.’

‘Will do.’ Harry said. ‘Although I wouldn’t want to interrupt you and Ron’s alone time. Treat him good, okay?’

‘What are you-?’ Hermione squealed, but Harry pulled away, gave a last wave, and hopped into the fire, calling ‘Hogwarts’, before disappearing into the green flames.

Hermione stood, still staring into the fire as it returned to normal. What did Harry mean? _Ron and her?_

She’d long since given up any hope on _that_. Ron was her friend; that was it, she wasn’t anything more to him, and he didn’t want to be anything more than that to her. She knew that. She had known that since they were at school. So what did Harry mean?

‘Hermione? You alright?’

Hermione felt Ron’s soft hand stroke her shoulder. _Merlin, why did he have to be so sweet?_

‘I’m fine, Ron,’ Hermione replied, a little sadly. ‘I always am…’

~~~~~~~

The next few days passed with an air of uncomfortableness. Despite how long they had been friends, Ron and Hermione had never actually lived together on their own for any length of time. True, those few months during the disastrous camping trip had technically counted, but Harry had always been there as well.

Aside from their separate bedrooms, they were effectively cohabitating. No other people, just them.

Alone. In a flat. Together.

It was infuriating. Hermione could barely stand how utterly comfortable Ron was about the whole situation. Every day, he would smile cheerfully at Hermione as they met in the kitchen for breakfast, often wearing little more than a pair of pyjama shorts and a tight t-shirt.

Why did he have to blindside Hermione with such a wonderfully attractive image at such an early hour every day? His muscles bulged under the thin layers he wore, and Hermione felt her eyes drawn to the coppery hairs on Ron’s lower torso that revealed themselves whenever the redhead stretched his arms over his head. His smile was always that lop-sided speciality of his that had made her stomach do somersaults since they were teenagers. It was as if Hermione was transported back to being fifteen; full of hormones and turning into a complete lovesick mess whenever Ron so much as _smiled_ at her.

It was enough to drive a woman mad.

Those images stuck in Hermione’s mind all day. During the middle of ministry paperwork, an image of Ron in all his freckly glory would appear before her eyes, unwilling to move, and resulting in Hermione making many a trip to the bathroom to douse her face in cold water.

Hermione glared angrily at herself in the mirror as the water smudged what little make-up she wore nowadays. She had brought this whole situation on herself, of course; it had been her who had never seriously pursued Ron during their teenage years when there might have been the faintest possibility that Ron liked her back, and now she paying the price for it. The only person she’d ever loved was her room-mate who saw her as a friend and nothing more. It was as if the universe was taunting Hermione by dangling Ron in front of her; so close to her, but always out of reach.

When they were at school, Hermione had always wondered how Ron felt about her. There was a few times where she even dared to hope that he might see her the same way.

For a brief period in their sixth year, she had felt sure that things between them were finally progressing. She’d even asked him to Slughorn’s Christmas party. Despite her worst fears, she hadn’t messed up the invitation. It had been during a quiet evening in the common-room. Harry had been playing Exploding Snap with Neville, and Hermione had taken the opportunity to casually ask Ron to the party.

‘Er… Ron… I was wondering…well, I don’t really like these parties of Professor Slughorn’s, you see…’

Ron stretched his limbs out like a cat, yawning slightly.

‘Well, don’t go, then.’

‘I would avoid them if I could. They’re so boring to sit through… I don’t really enjoy speaking to anyone there…’

‘What about Ginny?’ Ron had said, admittedly slightly sour. Hermione had guessed he still wasn’t impressed at being completely ignored by the Professor whilst his little sister was invited to the various parties. ‘I’m sure she’s invited to them just as much as you.’

‘She rarely turns up, what with Quidditch practice.’ Hermione had continued, feeling his pulse race as the conversation progressed to her invitation. ‘And I don’t really like any of the other people there… you see…I-I was wondering, would…would you like to come along?’

Ron’s eyes had widened with apparent shock.

‘N-not if you don’t want to, of course!’ Hermione stammered, looking down at her feet. She mentally kicked herself; _now it seemed like she didn’t want him to join her_! ‘B-but it would be really nice to have you there…I mean, if you were okay with it…I know you don’t like Professor Slughorn much-’

‘No, no; I’d like that!’ Ron said, sitting up straighter in his seat. ‘Er…as long as you’re okay with me… coming along, you know?’

Hermione tried not to smile like a lovesick dork. He wasn’t disgusted by her suggestion; he actually _wanted_ to go there with her!

‘I wouldn’t ask anyone-else.’

Ron had smiled at her, his cheeks dimpling as he did so, and Hermione had felt like she had died and gone to a really wonderful afterlife.

But it was all for nought. Out of the blue, they’d both been pulled into a prefect meeting before they’d even had the chance to change into their dress robes, and completely missed the entire party.

Hermione had barely listened to a word the head-boy and head-girl had been telling the prefects. Instead, all she could think about was the crushing sense of disappointment and loss. Out through the window of the meeting-room, Hermione could hear the distant sounds of laughter and music from Professor Slughorn’s office. There was clearly some sort of dance happening at the party. Maybe she could have suggested that Ron dance with her. Or maybe he would have asked her. Maybe she could have “accidentally” ended up with Ron under mistletoe, and finally kissed the gorgeous redhead on the lips.

On the way back from the meeting, Hermione should have taken the opportunity to show Ron how much she would have enjoyed the party, and tell him that maybe they could go to the next one together. But instead they had walked back in silence.

Hermione had been too terrified. Too scared to show Ron how she truly felt.

She had cried herself to sleep that night, cursing her own cowardice. Ron had even given her a few expectant looks on the way back, as if to encourage her to bring up their missed opportunity. But all she had done was stare down at her feet, inwardly bellowing insults at herself. _How can you be so…so… un-Gryffindor?!_

 _I’m sorry, Ron_ , Hermione had sobbed into her pillow, _I’m sorry I couldn’t be that brave…_

Their school days had passed with no change. Whenever there was a party in Slughorn’s office, Ron was always busy with Quidditch practice, or they were both busy with prefect duties. They never got the chance to go again.

Ginny had reluctantly suggested that Hermione try looking at the other boys, but it was no good. She couldn’t look at any other boy, because no other boy was Ron Weasley. No-one else would ever come close.

_How could Hermione date anyone else, when she had only ever loved him?_

It was likely that she would never love anyone-else. She had fallen for Ron before she had even noticed boys. There was no hope for her.

She was stuck; in love with her best friend who would never see her in the same way.

Hermione tried to push these thoughts to the back of her subconscious. But her subconscious was no longer the safe place that it once was.

Hermione’s embarrassing (but quite enjoyable) dreams about snogging Ron had been replaced by intense nightmares. The sort of nightmares that resulted in feverish sweats and horrible mental strain.

It was always the same. Malfoy Manor.

That place… Hermione didn’t know if she’d ever come to turns with what had happened to her at that place.

If it hadn’t been for Ron desperately screaming her name from the cellar below, she didn’t know if she could have withstood the mental and physical torture she had been put under.

Except in these nightmares, Ron wasn’t there to scream her name. There was no supporting, comforting voice. No reminder that she was Hermione Granger, that she knew Ron Weasley, and that she had people who cared about her.

Just misery and pain, and Bellatrix Lestrange bellowing the curse over and over.

_‘CRUCIO!’_

Pain. Unimaginable pain. Pain so unbearable that it felt as if it was ripping the soul out of Hermione’s body. Like she could barely remember that she was alive.

_‘Crucio!’_

_No… please let it stop…_

‘Crucio!’

_Let it end…_

_‘Crucio!’_

_Death… death was better than this…_

Then, suddenly, a voice cut through it all. Bolder, sharper, warmer. A voice that Hermione could never forget.

‘Hermione! Hermione!’

Suddenly, Hermione found herself staring into Ron’s enormous blue eyes. She wasn’t in Malfoy Manor; she was in her own bed. And Ron was kneeling beside her bed, his face lined with worry, and his hand pushing her bushy hair away from her face.

Without hesitating to think, Hermione threw her arms around Ron and buried her face in his chest, sobs wracking her body as she clung to him.

She felt his strong arms fold around her, stroking her back in deep, soothing tones.

‘Shhhh…’ he whispered soothingly, stroking her hair. ‘It’s okay…. it’s okay… it was just a bad dream…’

Hermione screwed up her face against his chest as she sobbed. She could feel his t-shirt becoming drenched with her tears, but she couldn’t pull away. She couldn’t forgo this, her sole source of comfort.

‘Was it…’ Ron asked, tentatively, as if unsure whether or not he should clarify.

Hermione nodded against his chest.

Ron’s arms pulled around her more closely, and he buried his face in her tangled hair. It was a forlorn hope, but Hermione thought she could feel his lips press softly against her head.

‘I’ve got you…’ Ron breathed, his voice deep and comforting. ‘I’ll always be here, Hermione… no matter what…’

Hermione felt like her heart was splitting. How could he be so wonderful? Did he really have no idea what effect his words were having on her? How could she hear him say those things and not fall even further in love with him?

Life was so unfair.

Hermione pulled away, rubbing her eyes with her sleeves. Ron loosened his arms around her, and moved a respectful distance away.

‘S-sorry,’ Hermione mumbled. ‘Did I wake you up?’

Ron shook his head.

‘Don’t apologise. I was awake anyway, and I could hardly not come running when you were upset, could I?’

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face, and tried to compose herself. She hated being so vulnerable like this, especially so many years after the war had ended.

Ron _accio_ ’d a box of issues from Hermione’s desk, and handed one to her.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered, taking it and wiping her eyes, which were already feeling raw and itchy. ‘I must look a real state at the moment.’

It was a (admittedly weak) attempt at humour, but Ron took the hint.

‘Well, I don’t know about _that_.’ he said, grinning slightly. ‘You looked a lot worse during exams in third year. Although I’m not exactly an oil painting myself, am I?’

 _Yes, you bloody are!_ Hermione mentally screamed.  But outwardly she just smiled.

‘You’re a Weasley. You’re _all_ good-looking.’

‘Was that… a compliment? From Hermione Granger?’ Ron said, putting a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. ‘I should alert the papers!’

Hermione chuckled. She always could rely on Ron to lighten the mood.

‘Besides,’ he said, fidgeting with a loose thread on Hermione’s duvet. ‘You look really pretty anyway, so you’re still going to look nice when you’re crying, at the very least, don’t you think?’

Hermione felt like her heart had just stopped. Did…did he just _…._ say she looked _pretty_?

_Were Ron’s ears turning red as well?_

Before Hermione could even think of how to react to this startling proclamation, Ron stood up.

‘Er…’ he said, awkwardly, motioning to the door with his head. ‘I should probably leave you to…’

Oh, he wanted to leave so she could get some sleep. Normally, Hermione would have simply nodded, and let him go. But she felt strangely… _different_.  

Once again, without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Ron’s hand.

‘Please…please don’t go.’

Ron’s eyes widened as his blue eyes met her brown eyes.

‘But you need to-’

‘Just until I fall asleep. _P-please, Ron_.’

Ron seemed to be undergoing some sort of intense mental battle. What it was over, Hermione wasn’t sure, but one side clearly triumphed over the other, because in a few short seconds, he nodded his head and sat down on the edge of her mattress.

‘Course,’ he said, stroking her hand with his thumb softly as she lay down. ‘As long as you don’t mind…’

‘Not at all,’ Hermione murmured, enjoying the feeling of Ron’s hand on hers. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Course not.’

Hermione could hear Ron breathing softly nearby her, and his thumb as he continued to move it in soothing motions.

Maybe she didn’t have any chance with Ron, but what she did have a wonderful friend who would always be there for her. That wasn’t so bad. So what if he didn’t fancy her? He still cared for her, and she would take whatever Ron was willing to give her in their friendship. Hand-holding, hugs, whatever; she’d gladly accept them and treasure every moment.

As much as she wanted to stay like this, Hermione felt her eyes reluctantly cloud over, and she fell into a dreamless, calm sleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke up to find herself alone. She could hear Ron talking to someone in the kitchen, and assumed that he was conversing with Harry through the floo network.

‘But come off it…’ Ron was saying. Hermione couldn’t really hear what Harry was saying, but the voice of the youngest Weasley son was crystal-clear. ‘I mean… that’s not… well, yeah, I am but… but what about… no, I never got that sorted but that was my own bloody fault, wasn’t it… wait, there’s got to be some other way…’

Feeling lazier than normal due to her deep sleep, Hermione pulled her silk robe around her, and wandered slowly into the kitchen.

The tall redhead was standing in front of the fire, his back to Hermione.

‘Good morning, Ron,’ she greeted cheerfully, trying not to blush when she remembered how she had clung to him only a few hours previously.

‘Er… morning,’

Ron’s tone was a lot less cheerful than she expected. Hermione turned round. Upon further expectation, the redheads’ face had gone pale, and his eyes were wide in apparent shock, staring into the now-empty fireplace as the green flames disappeared.

‘Ron, what’s wrong?’ Hermione asked, looking at him with concern. ‘Has something happened to Harry?’

‘Wasn’t Harry,’ Ron mumbled, looking dazed.

‘Then who-?’

‘Mum.’

Ron swallowed loudly as he turned to her. His eyes, confused and scared, slowly arched up to meet Hermione’s. He looked like all life had gone from his face.

‘Ron,’ Hermione pleaded, putting a comforting hand on his wrist. Had something happened to the Weasleys? Had someone died? ‘Ron… please… what’s happened?’

Ron stared at her like the world was ending.

‘ _She said_ …. _she said that_ … _I’m going to be put into an arranged marriage_ ’.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the second chapter of 'A Peculiar Engagement', Ron and Hermione struggle with the crisis of Ron's arranged marriage. To add to it all; the mastermind behind the arranged marriage appears, as well as a surprising reveal concerning the marriage partner!  
> Why is Hermione so upset over Ron's reluctance to stand up for himself? Why is Ron so hesitant to go against the arranged marriage? And what is the weird atmosphere that appears everytime Ron and Hermione are alone?  
> Read on, dear readers, and find out...

Ron Weasley opened his eyes, and scratched his head wearily.

Wait, wearily?

_Why was he in such a bad mood again?..._

Had a relative died? Thank Merlin, no.

Had he upset Hermione? Not that he was aware of.

Had the Chudley Cannons lost their last match? Well, that was a possibility, but Ron was used to that particular pain.

Had he accidentally walked in on one of his brothers in _flagrante delicto_ with their partner? Thank Merlin again, _no_.

Then the memories of the previous day hit him, and he immediately wished he could have stayed blissfully forgetful.

He was getting married.

Well, if they were talking specifically; it’s because he was getting married _to the wrong person_.

The previous day, his mum had called him over floo powder, and promptly dropped the bombshell that he was being put into an arranged marriage.

The words she had used to console him wafted miserably through his mind.

‘I’m sorry, Ron,’ his mum had said, sounding genuinely remorseful. ‘But you know what Auntie Muriel is like; once she decides on something, it’s very difficult to change her mind. She’s adamant that you be put into an arranged marriage….It’s to do with the family finances; Muriel’s arranged a decent dowry….I know we’ve never cared much about money, but she’s refusing to budge… And you’re still single, aren’t you… No, Charlie’s not in the country, he can’t be married off… There isn’t anyone-else but you that Muriel can arrange a marriage for… I’m sorry, Ronnie; your father and I are trying to change her mind, but we’re not sure it’ll work… we’ll let you know how things go… ’

The words seemed almost meaningless to Ron, though. The only thing he knew for certain was that his dreams about _finally_ admitting his feelings for Hermione Granger had been crushed- brutally and efficiently- into the dirt.

Ron rubbed his face with his hands, trying not to let out the anguished cry that had been threatening to explode from within him since the previous day.

_What was he going to do?_

He supposed it was his own bloody fault, of course; he’d spent years carrying a torch for Hermione, his best friend and room-mate. But he’d never worked up the courage to actually tell her how he felt.

Since the age of eleven, he’d known her; watched as she morphed from the nervous first-year to the confident young woman she was now. He didn’t know when his feelings for her had changed; maybe he’d always loved her.

He was stuck. Somewhere along the lines, he had fallen for Hermione Granger. The amazing, kind, brave, intelligent, beautiful, wonderful woman who would never see him the same way he saw her.

There had a time when he’d hoped that… _maybe_ … just _maybe_ … she felt something for him too. In sixth year, she’d invited him to one of Slughorn’s parties.

Ron didn’t get along with Slughorn at all (not that the old Potions master ever had ever paid him any attention in those days, of course), but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he was there with Hermione.

Sure, it wasn’t a date, but it could have been _something_.

But things hadn’t worked out. They’d been pulled into a prefects meeting on short notice and missed the whole thing. Hermione hadn’t even mentioned the party as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. Ron had hoped that she would, but no; she wasn’t bothered by it. It clearly hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him.

Ron had gone to bed in dire spirits that night, wishing for the whole day to have been a bad dream, and that he could still go with Hermione to the party… maybe have a dance with her… dancing with Hermione, he would have died happy…. a few dances later, they might have walked towards a cosy archway to cool down… maybe mistletoe would have happened to be hanging from above them… scratch what he’d thought earlier, after being under the mistletoe with Hermione Granger, _then_ he would have died happy.

Lying awake that night in his dormitory bed, Ron wondered what things could have been. Maybe there was a world out there in which he was the luckiest bloke alive, and Hermione actually saw him the same way he saw her. It was a futile hope, Ron knew, but he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t help holding out in the hope that maybe… by some universe-bending stroke of luck… in a perfect world, the incomparably brilliant girl that he loved might show him just a _small fraction_ of the same feelings he felt for her.

Holding a torch for Hermione Granger. For a woman who would never see him as he saw her.

Ron chuckled pityingly to himself; _then and now, he really was a mess, wasn’t he…_

He remembered how Hermione had reacted when he’d told her about the arranged marriage. Despite being in shock from his mother’s announcement, he had memorised the entire scene.

She had already placed a supportive hand on his wrist before he had gotten the words out.

He had expected her to remove her hand after he revealed the announcement, but instead, Hermione had taken her hand off his wrist and onto his bicep, where she slowly moved her thumb in rhythmic circles.

Ron felt his heart beat quicker, but he tried to quash the hopeful feelings erupting in his stomach. She was just being a good friend; why did he have to assume _every_ bit of physical contact with her had to mean something-else?

Hermione’s eyes were wide with shock, but she kept her voice calm.

‘Ron…’ she had said, continuing to stroke his arm softly. ‘They… they can’t do this, can they? What about your say in the matter, can’t you-’

‘I’m… I’m fine.’

‘Fine? But how can you-?’

‘I said I’m fine, Hermione!’

He had spoken louder than he meant, and Hermione brought her hand away from his arm. The sudden removal was jarring for Ron. Seeing the barely-hidden look of hurt on her face, Ron felt the familiar pangs of self-loathing explode in his heart.

‘Er… sorry,’ Ron had said. His eyes met hers, and he took her hand. Her skin was soft and- almost unconsciously- he started stroking his thumb in the same rhythmic circles she had done. ‘It’s just… a lot to take in.’

‘It’s okay,’ Hermione had whispered, blinking hurriedly as if to stop tears from falling. _Had his words really hurt her that much?_ The self-loathing in Ron’s heart seemed to consolidate into a brick, making him feel like he was getting struck from the inside-out. ‘I understand. Ron… just know that I’ll be here for you, no matter what, okay?’

Ron had known she meant well, but it was almost too much to bear. It was like the universe was taunting him.

‘Y-yeah,’ Ron had said, gently dropping her hand, praying that the tears in his own eyes weren’t noticeable. ‘I’m… gonna go get showered and stuff… got to get to work…’

‘Oh, yes,’ Hermione had squeaked, turning round so that her face was obscured by her bushy hair. ‘I’d better have some breakfast…’

For a couple of exhilarating seconds, Ron had contemplated wrapping his arms round her. If he was getting forced into a marriage with someone-else, why did he have to lose?

 _Idiot_ , he told himself, _she’d just slap you! Hermione doesn’t fancy you; stop deluding yourself!_

Ron had reluctantly turned his back on Hermione and made his way back down the corridor towards the bathroom.

However, he had thought to himself, could he be sure that he really was _just_ deluding himself?

Maybe he had just been getting delirious with misery, but, as he had closed the bathroom door behind him, he could have sworn that he heard the sounds of muffled sobbing from the kitchen.

The redhead sighed sadly as the memories flashed through his mind. _Why couldn’t life be simple?_

~~~~~~~~

Deciding that he really _had_ to get up sooner or later, Ron climbed out of bed, and went to go take a shower, yawning. He made sure to check whether Hermione was sleeping okay, as she’d had lots of nightmares recently.

However, her door was half-open, and Ron guessed that she had gone to get breakfast instead.

Deciding that it was probably not the best for his sanity if he saw Hermione with her hair rumpled from sleep and wearing those adorable pyjamas that he loved, Ron locked himself in the bathroom.

Still trying to get the image of a bed-rumpled and silk-pyjama-clad Hermione out of his filthy mind, he turned on the cold water. The shock immediately removed all… daydreams of _that sort_ from his mind.

And yet, as he washed, he remembered how he had helped comfort Hermione after her night terrors. She had looked happy for him to be there with her… so unabashedly _hungry_ for his presence… almost like she loved-

 _Cut it out!_ Ron told himself angrily. _It’s no good getting your hopes up like that, especially considering you’ll never be with her now that… that…_

He put his head against the cold tiles. The arranged marriage. It felt like a milestone around his neck.

After having a shave, Ron returned his room and got changed. Due to the cold shower, he decided on throwing on an old Weasley jumper over his shirt.

‘Morning, Ron!’

Hermione was sat at the breakfast bar as Ron wondered over, and Ron’s breath caught in his throat.  

_Merlin, she was gorgeous…_

The bushy-haired witch was wearing her favourite silk pyjamas, and her hair was even more ruffled than Ron had pictured in his head. Her mouth was formed into a small smile that made Ron’s heart race. Did she really have _no idea_ the effect she had on him?

‘Morning,’ he said, praying that his ears weren’t going red, as he got the milk out of the fridge. ‘You sleep okay?’

At his own words, Ron’s mind immediately became full of memories of the night he had comforted Hermione from her nightmares, and then stayed up with her, holding her hand as she fell asleep.

He had been so worried for her; her nightmares had been getting so much worse lately. Somehow, though; he being by her side seemed to have calmed her. Ron didn’t want to think too hard about that; he was her best friend, of course. She was just glad of a friendly face. Nothing more. This was Hermione, after all.  The possibility that she felt anything more than friendship for him was too… perfect to comprehend. Ron couldn’t entertain the thought. It wasn’t fair to her to hold out hope when she’d never see that way.

He’d almost completely overstepped his boundaries and actually tried to _flirt_ with her. Yes, him; trying to flirt with Hermione Granger! Who would have thought it?! Somehow, without stammering like a complete fool, he’d told her that he thought she was _pretty_. Although it seemed like she hadn’t really noticed. In fact; all she’d done was stare at him as if she hadn’t heard him properly.

Probably for the best, considering their current situation. It wouldn’t be a good idea for Hermione to suspect his true feelings for her when he was being put into an arranged marriage with someone-else; not only would he lose any possibility of romance with her, but he’d also be losing her as a friend as well if that happened.

Hermione tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking a little self-conscious as she answered his question.

‘Not too bad. What about you, though?’

‘Er… well, I’m still… you know, getting used to what’s happening…’

Hermione put down her slice of toast, and looked at him as he sat down beside her with his bowl of muesli.

‘Ron, you don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.’

Ron looked down at his cereal; he didn’t want to discuss this with Hermione. He didn’t want to give himself false hope, after all. Because he knew that she’d be able to change his mind; she always had a way of getting under his skin. And the sad part? Ron would happily let her.

‘I can’t help it, Hermione.’

‘How can you be so… accepting of this?’

Ron let out a humourless laugh. She didn’t understand.

‘I’m not accepting it because I want to, Hermione,’ he said, playing with the muesli in his bowl, not feeling much like eating it. ‘I’m accepting it because I _have to_.’

‘But why…?’

Ron sighed, putting his spoon down.

If there was anything more miserable than explaining to the woman you loved that you were accepting being put into an arranged marriage to someone-else, Ron didn’t want to know what it was.

‘It’s my family’s decision, Hermione. It doesn’t matter what I want. Like always, my opinion doesn’t matter-’

‘Yes, it does!’

Ron looked up. Hermione’s face was lined with frustration as she stared at him.

‘Your decisions matter, Ron!’ she exclaimed, slamming down her hand on the breakfast bar. ‘You’ve always been like this; never feeling like what you want is important, and I’m sick of it!’

‘Hermione…’

‘Don’t give up over this!’ she pleaded, her eyes now glistening with tears. ‘If you don’t want this arranged m-m-marriage, then stand up for yourself!

‘But how…?’

‘I’ll help you! I’m the bookworm, aren’t I?! I can find some sort of loophole to get your out of this! Just don’t give up! I couldn’t bear it if you ended up… unhappy in some loveless arranged m-m-marriage…’

Ron’s mouth went dry. Okay, _this_ was worse than telling the woman he loved about the arranged marriage. It broke his heart to see Hermione so upset over this. She really did care. To the rest of the world, she might have seemed irritable and cold, but Ron knew differently. Hermione Granger was a human being; with all the raging emotions that it entailed.

‘P-please Ron….’

Without thinking, he stood up and put his arms around her. He stroked Hermione’s untameable hair, and held her as she began to sob into his chest, staining Ron’s jumper with tears.

‘P-please Ron,’ she wept, scrunching up his jumper in his fists. ‘Don’t just give up… not now… not after everything we’ve been through…’

Ron bent down and kissed Hermione on the head. _Merlin, he loved this girl._ Even if she didn’t love him back, he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure she was never unhappy again.

Maybe he didn’t have any chance with Hermione, but what he did have was a wonderful friend who’d always been there for him. That wasn’t so bad. _So what if she didn’t fancy him?_ She still cared for him, and he would take whatever Hermione was willing to give him in their relationship. Hand-holding, hugs; whatever it was, he’d gladly accept them and treasure every moment.

‘Okay, Hermione,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘We’ll do something. Don’t worry; you’re not getting rid of me _that easily_.’

Hermione chuckled into his jumper, before pulling away and wiping her eyes.

‘You…you promise not to give up?’

Ron smiled at her.

‘ _Never, ‘Mione_.’

Hermione’s mouth grew into an enormous smile. Her face was red (no doubt from crying), her eyes were blotchy, and her nose was running, but Ron couldn’t care less. She was beautiful in every possible way.

He wasn’t going to lose her. He’d go through hell before he let that happen.

The two young people stared at each-other, neither of them breaking eye contact. Ron felt giddy; the look Hermione was giving him was so open… so caring… so loving- no, surely not. So why was she still staring at him, with her smile like that, and her eyes so joyous?

Without thinking, Ron reached out and took Hermione’s hand in his. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t recoil.

‘I don’t want to give up, ‘Mione.’

Ron wasn’t imagining it; Hermione’s cheeks had gone red at his words. But, instead of pulling away, she wrapped her fingers around Ron’s hand, causing goosebumps to erupt up his arm, and sent shivers down his spine.

‘I….I don’t want you to give up either, Ron.’

Hermione’s fingers felt so soft against his skin, and her warm-bronze complexion contrasted beautifully with his own freckled paleness. If he wasn’t much mistaken, he could feel Hermione’s heartbeat through her hand, but why was it so fast? He was probably just feeling his own heartbeat, then. No way that Hermione Granger’s pulse would be racing from holding _his_ hand.

Ron couldn’t remember the last time he had held Hermione’s hand like this. Was it during the second wizarding war? Whenever it was, Ron wished it hadn’t been so long ago. He felt so calm… so whole… holding Hermione’s hand. It was so comforting.

Ron wetted his lips.

‘’Mione, do you-?’

‘Ronald Weasley!’

The two of them both jumped, startled by the loud voice that had broken the comfortable atmosphere between them.

Ron felt just-about ready to hex whoever had interrupted them at what felt like such an important moment, when he recognised the voice.

Feeling a growing sense of anxiety, Ron opened his mouth.

‘Aunt Muriel?’

‘Yes, Ronald!’ The diminutive witch barker, as she climbed ungainly out of the fire place, in which flames that indicated floo travel had started smouldering back down into nothingness. ‘Although I won’t be here much longer, if I don’t have a nice sit-down! I really shouldn’t be on my feet for too long, you know!’

Rolling his eyes, Ron walked over from the breakfast bar, and accio’d a chair towards Muriel.

‘Hmmm, a gentleman would have brought it by hand,’ Muriel muttered, as she sat down on the leather armchair. ‘That’s something you’ll have to work on in the future, Ronald!’

Ron rolled his eyes again, although not as covertly as he had hoped.

‘I saw that!’ Muriel exclaimed, casting a beady eye over her great-nephew. ‘Your fiancée won’t be very impressed if you keep behaving like an adolescent all the time!’

Fiancée? _That mean…._

‘Were you the one who came up with this idea, then?’ Ron asked, folding his arms over his chest.

‘Of course I was! Honestly, boy, have you only just worked that out? Didn’t Molly tell you anything?’

‘She told Ron he was being put into an arranged marriage,’ Hermione said, as she walked over, frowning. Ron noticed she had pulled a silk dressing gown around her; no doubt she felt awkward talking to Ron’s relatives in her pyjamas. ‘Funnily enough, no-one seems to know anything aside from that one fact.’

‘Oh, you’re that muggleborn, aren’t you?’ Muriel said, eyeing Hermione with apparent interest. ‘As I understand it, you’re living in sin with Ron at this present time; that’ll have to stop, of course-’

‘Hermione is my best friend,’ Ron said loudly, throwing Muriel a look of deepest irritation. ‘ _No-one_ in this flat is living in sin.’

Muriel glowered at Ron.

Stealing a look at Hermione, Ron noticed that she had dropped her eyes to her feet, looking flustered. Ron wasn’t surprised; the idea of him being with her in that way must have made her feel uncomfortable. Refusing to react to the ache in his heart, Ron cleared his throat, and crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Well, then; she can make us some tea, in that case. Off you pop, girl!’

Hermione’s face now grew red with anger as she brought her line of sight upwards. Ron could understand her irritation; for Muriel to order Hermione around like she was some sort of servant was pushing the limits of their hospitality.

‘ _I will not_ -’

‘I’ll make the tea,’ Ron said, striding off to the kitchen. ‘Aunt Muriel, Hermione’s not a maid you can just boss around. Either you act cordially to her, or we’ll be having this discussion over floo powder.’

Frowning, Muriel went silent. Ron could tell that her need to criticise others was battling against her dislike of bending over to make Floo calls. Despite her apparent toughness, the old buzzard hated bending down to make calls through her fireplace.

When Ron returned with the tea, he and Hermione accio’d some chairs, and sat down across from Muriel.

‘Ah, that’s better!’ The old witch said, smacking her lips as she put down her cup. ‘Now, Ronald; you really should start thinking more in-depth about your arranged marriage.’

‘Aunt Muriel…’

‘-I’ve got a lovely girl from an old pureblood family who’ll be a perfect match.’ Muriel interrupted, clearly paying no attention to Ron. ‘She’s roughly the same age as you, and her family own a profitable company. There’s no death-eater links, so the Weasleys will be happy-’

‘Aunt Muriel…’

‘And we arrange the marriage for the New Year. The dowry might not be brilliant, but the Weasleys could do with an extra bit of cash-’

‘ _Aunt Muriel, listen to me!_ ’

Ron had slammed his tea-cup onto the table next to him, causing the contents spill and the china to rattle.

‘What, Ronald?’ Muriel asked, looking irritated by his interruption into her recital.

‘I don’t want any part of this arranged marriage,’ Ron said, trying to control his anger. ‘I don’t care what you’ve organised; it’s not happening.’

‘Don’t be silly, Ronald; the Weasley family need the money from the dowry!’ Muriel exclaimed, her eyes widening as if shocked by his response. ‘You’re the only one of Molly’s children living in Britain who hasn’t got a long-term partner; therefore, you have to do this!’

‘I don’t “have” to do anything, Muriel.’ Ron said, intent on keeping his voice even. He was no longer the impetuous teenager who would lose his cool at the drop of a hat. ‘You might have forced mum to agree to this idea, but I’m not getting married off just for money.’

Muriel’s top lip was now so thin that it was in danger of disappearing.

‘Ronald, stop being so selfish-’

‘ _Selfish?!_ ’

‘You don’t even know who your marriage partner will be, yet.’ The old witch continued, as if Ron hadn’t spoken. ‘You’ll grow to love her sooner or later.’

Ron was about to respond to this ridiculous statement, when the fire exploded into flames again, and a blonde-haired young women stepped out, trailing ash onto the carpet.

‘Hello, Ronald! Hello Hermione!’

‘Luna!’ Hermione said, getting up to greet her. ‘How are you?’

Luna often popped over to their flat for a chat on the weekend, since she didn’t live in the muggle world like they did. Ron enjoyed hearing about the various magical creatures Luna had encountered on her expeditions around the world, and (while Hermione was often skeptical) the two young women had much more of a close friendship than they had done during their Hogwarts years. It was nice to see; judging from what Hermione said, she didn’t have a lot of friends at her workplace in the ministry, and Ron was thankful that Luna was there for the bushy-haired witch.

Hermione had never exactly been… friendly with other girls, even as a teenager, but if she could now get along with Luna Lovegood (a girl she could barely stand on their first meeting) then something must have changed. Whatever it was, Ron was glad of it.  

‘I’m fine, thank you!’ Luna chirped, as Hermione pulled her into a hug. ‘How are things here?’

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron.

‘Er…. actually, Luna, maybe this isn’t the best time for you to come round-’

‘Ah, Miss Lovegood! Good to see you!’

Hermione looked around in shock. The old witch was grinning at the new arrival to their midst.

‘Luna, do you know Ron’s Aunt Muriel?’

The blonde woman nodded.

‘Our families know each-other. It’s surprising that I never got to know Ron until we were both at Hogwarts, actually.’

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll become more acquainted to Ronald as time goes on!’

Muriel had spoken.

Ron slowly turned to his great aunt, who was now looking at them with a sense of weird satisfaction, her eyes gleeful.

‘Er… Mrs Prewitt,’ Hermione asked, her polite tone cracking slightly. ‘What do you mean by…?’

She trailed off as Muriel’s eyes flicked from Ron to Luna. With a dawning sense of understanding, Ron’s eyes met Hermione’s, which were wide with shock, confusion, and (unless Ron was very much mistaken) a great sadness, as she was losing something precious to her.

Muriel climbed up out of her seat. As the old buzzard slowly made her way over to them, her eyes continuing to flip between himself and Luna, Ron felt like the ground he was standing on was shifting, pulling him and Hermione apart. 

‘I was planning on telling you both this later on, but this seems as good a time as any!’

The old witch smiled gleefully as she clapped the bewildered Luna on the shoulder. 

‘Ronald; allow me to formally introduce you to Luna Lovegood...your fiancée!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked the second chapter!  
> I don't know how many of you guessed who Ron's marriage-partner was going to be, but I congratulate those who did so (actually, considering my posts on Tumblr, it probably wasn't that much of a shock).  
> What will happen now? Stay tuned for the next chapter, which I hope to post within the next few weeks! 
> 
> If you liked the chapter, please leave kudos and/or comments, or share on social media. I'll try to respond to every message as soon as I can.  
> If you want notifications on the chapter updates, feel free to subscribe and/or follow this work, so you're updated as soon as I publish the next chapter! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading so far, everyone! I hope you're all enjoying how this fic is progressing!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Muriels’ shocking announcement, Hermione finds herself falling apart, distraught that Ron’s arranged marriage partner is their close friend Luna Lovegood. But why is Luna so confused by it? Will Ron still fight against the arranged marriage? And who is the mysterious woman that Ron has apparently been holding a torch for? Read on, dear readers, read on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the third chapter, everyone! For reasons that will become clear, I deliberately left publishing this until Ron's birthday. Hope you enjoy it! Apologies for the long wait between this and the previous chapter!

The room became deathly silent in the wake of Muriel’s announcement.

Hermione felt like the world was spinning around her, and her heart seemed to have disabled; she wasn’t even sure she was still breathing. It seemed like the axis of the earth had become dislodged, or –at least- that’s what Hermione’s internal organs were telling her. Her lungs appeared to be filling with water than air, and her stomach had apparently transfigured itself into a large piece of lead.

_Luna?_

Luna Lovegood was…. Ron’s fiancée? Luna Lovegood- their good friend since Hogwarts, who had been there for them through thick and thin- was the person Ron was being forced to marry?

The person Hermione was losing Ron to.  

‘Mrs… Mrs Prewitt? What are you talking about?’

Luna’s voice reached through the dark mist threatening to overload Hermione’s senses. The blonde woman was still standing next to Muriel, and looking the very picture of confused. In the entire time she had known Luna, Hermione had never seen her look so shocked. 

‘Silly girl; you and Ronald are going to be wed!’ Muriel chuckled, clapping Luna on the shoulder again. 

Luna’s enormous grey eyes flicked between Hermione and Ron.

‘But… that’s not right-’

‘Yes, it is,’ Muriel interrupted, looking a little annoyed at Luna’s less-than-happy response. ‘I could have sworn I told your relatives to inform you what was going on.’

Luna shook her head, now looking at Hermione in confusion. Hermione returned the same look, her face barely containing the utter horror and misery that was threatening to engulf her. Hermione looked at Ron, but his usually-bright blue eyes were glazed over, looking emptier than Hermione had ever seen them.

Hermione felt like her heart was breaking; it hurt her so much to see Ron looking so miserable. Usually, he was full of life. But _now_? It looked like he had retreated into his own head from the events unfolding around him.

Ron Weasley did not usually hide his emotions. In all the time Hermione had known him, he was _always_ the most open; the man who wore his heart on his sleeve and let you know how he felt.

To see him like this, therefore, was _utterly terrifying_. Like the light had gone from the world.

Luna’s eyes hovered over Ron, who had sat down, his eyes shut tight. Her gaze softened, and a small smile formed on her lips.

_Oh, no…_

Hermione felt as if her stomach had just disintegrated inside her.

She had always suspected that Luna had nursed a crush on Ron, ever since she had first met the Ravenclaw in fifth year. But she had assumed that Luna’s feelings had cooled in the years after the war.

But apparently not. The blonde still fancied Ron.

_And now she was Ron’s fiancée…_

Hermione bit back the strangled sobs that were threatening to spill out of her throat.

_It was over._

~~~~~~~~

Unable to stay where she was, Hermione began to walk-somewhat ungainly- towards the kitchen.

‘S-shall I make some tea?’ she said, her voice barely holding together. ‘Give us all a chance to think things over…’

The bushy-haired witch scrambled into the kitchen, and turned on the kettle.

As she watched the appliance begin to boil, Hermione began to weep, the kettle masking the noises she was making.

She really _was_ losing Ron.

_After all this time… there was no going back from this… she’d have to watch the wonderful man she loved marry another woman…_

It was all well-and-good telling Ron to fight it, but she couldn’t even hold _herself_ together through this. Some war hero she was.

‘Hermione, do you need some help- _oh_.’

Hermione squealed, and wheeled round, covering her reddening face with her hands.

Luna had wandered through the door into the kitchen, and was now standing a few feet from her.

‘Oh… h-hi, Luna…. Just got something in my eye….’

Without saying a word, Luna eased the door shut behind her, and crossed the kitchen, pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket as she did so.

‘N-no, I’m fine, honestly…’ Hermione said weakly, as Luna began to dab softly at Hermione’s eyes with the hanky.

‘Hermione, I’ve only seen you this unhappy a few times, and every time it was because something awful had happened.’

‘I’m f-fine-’

‘Is it because Ronald is being forced to marry me and not you?’

_Oh, god…_

Hermione’s already-splintering self-control broke, and she erupted into fresh tears, which were thankfully masked by the kettle boiling.

‘O-oh god...’ Hermione sobbed, feeling her legs shake. She slid down the side of the cupboard, lying in a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor. ‘D-don’t say it… please…. I can’t… I can’t….’

Hermione felt two arms go around her; Luna was hugging her.

‘Hermione, I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘I-it’s alright….’ Hermione whimpered, tears dripping down her cheeks as Luna pulled away slightly. It wasn’t Luna’s fault, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel miserable. This girl was engaged to Ron. _Her_ Ron; the boy Hermione had loved for years. ‘I… I just….’

‘Hermione, you don’t have to worry; I don’t want to marry Ronald.’

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat.

‘B-but… the way you look at him… how can you possibly not want to...to…’

Luna let out a small laugh.

‘I don’t think you understand, Hermione.’

‘ _What_ don’t I understand?’

‘Ronald’s my friend, Hermione; but I don’t see him like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘The way you see him.’

Hermione gulped. Now the cat was out of the bag.

‘H-how did you-?’

Luna chuckled good-naturedly.

‘Hermione, I’ve known about your feelings for Ronald since I first met you. You remember; on the train at the start of your fifth year? You keep glaring at me…’

Okay, so the cat had been out of the bag for a _very long_ time.

‘I-I’m sorry… that was so r-rude of me…’

‘It’s alright, Hermione,’ Luna smiled, dabbing at Hermione’s eyes again with her hanky. ‘I know it was only natural. Considering I was staring at Ronald so much…’

Hermione groaned. She had been right; Luna _had_ fancied Ron when they’d been at Hogwarts. _Why did she always have to be right about these things?_

The kettle had finished boiling.

Luna pulled her wand out from behind her ear, and cast a muting charm on the door, so that their voices wouldn’t echo through into the next room.

‘Hermione, Ronald is a friend to me and nothing else,’ Luna said, looking the bushy-haired witch straight in the eye. ‘At Hogwarts, my feelings for him were comparable with yours towards Professor Lockhart. Nothing more.’

‘Is… is that really public knowledge?’

‘Ginny told me. Usually to point out Ronald getting jealous about it.’

Hermione snorted dismissively.

‘Ron wasn’t jealous. Why would _he_ be jealous?’

Luna raised an eyebrow.

‘Hermione, I’m not entirely sure how you failed to notice this, but Ronald is in love with you-’

‘No, he isn’t!’ Hermione exclaimed, feeling her face burn. Why did everyone keep insisting on saying this when there was _never_ any hope for her. ‘I’m just a friend to him and nothing else! Please, Luna; I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but please don’t give me false hope. He’ll never see me as anything else; _why would he? I’m just a stuck-up, know-it-all, irritating_ -’

‘Ron loves you,’ Luna said, simply. ‘He always has, and he always will.’

Hermione wiped her eyes, wearily.

‘Luna, what’s the good it will do? He’s being forced into a marriage against his will. Even if- by some miracle- he _did_ love me, it would never work. He’s getting married… _to you_. I’m losing him forever.’

Luna didn’t say anything. Instead, she simply sat down next to where Hermione had sunk on the floor.

‘Hermione, do you remember when we first met? You never believed me about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, did you?’

Hermione shook her head, wiping her eyes clumsily with the sleeve of her dressing gown.

‘Not until you actually exhibited one at the Ministry, no.’

‘Exactly. Hermione, you are very much someone who doesn’t believe in something until they have conclusive proof. Until they have seen it with their own eyes.’

‘So?’

Luna patted Hermione on the shoulder.

‘Maybe you should stop looking for reasons why Ron couldn’t love you, and start looking for signs that he _does_.’

Before Hermione could respond, Luna climbed to her feet, and (pouring several cups of tea) fetched a tray, before leaving the kitchen, giving one last supportive smile to Hermione.

 

Hermione sat there on the floor in stunned silence. What on earth did Luna mean? Did she know something Hermione didn’t? And why was she telling Hermione this _now_ , of all times?

‘Here’s your tea, Ronald.’

‘Oh, thanks, Luna.’

Hermione put a hand over her mouth to prevent herself squeaking. Ron was stood just outside the door that Luna had slipped through. _Thank goodness_ for the noise-cancelling charm on the door.

‘No problem.’

‘Listen… Luna….about this arranged marriage thing…’

-Hermione’s heart went into her mouth. Oh god, was Ron actually happy with marrying Luna? That was all she needed to hear right now…

‘I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this whole mess.’

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

‘Oh, it’s alright, Ronald. I know it’s not your fault. And if you _were_ planning on getting married to anyone, it was never going to be _me_ , was it? It would be the woman you’ve been holding a torch for.’

Hermione felt her stomach turn to lead, and fresh tears began to spill from her eyes.

‘Y-yeah,’ Ron mumbled, his voice sounding almost shy. ‘It’s always been…. _her_.’

_Oh god; Ron really did fancy someone!_

She never had any hope to begin with! He loved someone-else. He’d never see her the same way he saw her. _Why would he?_ She was just a brainiac who was too cowardly to ever confess her feelings. _How could she ever have hoped that he-_

‘Is… is ‘Mione okay?’ Ron suddenly asked, breaking through the mental fog engulfing Hermione’s brain. ‘She looked really upset when she walked off… ’

Hermione’s heart seemed to stop.

How could Ron be so _wonderful_ all the time? Was it any wonder she had fallen for him, when he was so utterly kind and caring towards her? And why did he care so much for her? Even for a best friend, Ron was… something else.

And why did he have to use _that_ nickname? “ _‘_ Mione”; the nickname that _only he_ called her. The only nickname she actually liked; and _he_ was the only person she liked hearing it from.

‘She’s fine, Ron.’ Luna said, quickly. Ron had presumably made a motion towards opening the kitchen door. Hermione was glad of Luna’s placating; she didn’t think she could look at Ron without crying at the minute. ‘She put a silencing charm on the door, so the kettle noise wouldn’t annoy your aunt.’

Ron chuckled.

‘That is _so_ Hermione.’

Hermione felt her heart thump against her chest. _Damn it, Ron; why do you have to be so charming all the time?_

‘You care a lot for Hermione; don’t you, Ron?’

‘Well, of course I do. She’s my best friend.’

‘A best friend that you haven’t even _told_ about the woman you’re holding a torch for?’

Hermione held her breath.

‘I…I can’t tell her.’

‘Why ever not?’

Hermione’s ears pricked up. What was Ron’s reasoning for not telling her? Was he aware of her feelings, and didn’t want to upset her? There must have been a really good reason; they were best friends, after all.

‘Hermione’s... Hermione’s too important to me. I… I can’t lose her. I….I can’t take that risk.’

Hermione bit down on her lip to prevent herself from crying. _Lose her?_ What did he mean by _that_? Did he think she’d abandon him if she found out who he loved? Why would he think that?

Who did he love? It must have been someone she couldn’t stand. But who? Ron barely spent any time away from Hermione; even when he had free time from work. Where would he find _the time_ to meet someone?

Hermione’s brain seemed to shudder to a grinding halt.

Ron never went out. Aside from work events (which he was always bored with) he preferred to stay in and watch muggle films with Hermione. They’d spent most of the last few years practically living like a domestic couple (aside from Harry being there). But Harry actually went out. Ron always said he preferred quiet nights in, but Hermione always had wondered _why_. What was so great about sitting with her and watching silly muggle rom-coms every Friday and Saturday night? Half the time, she’d fall asleep in his lap, and he’d carry her to her room.

He always said he didn’t mind, but still… why? It was just _her_ , after all.

Her, in her novelty bunny slippers and rumpled silk pyjamas. Her, with no make-up, and her tangled mess of bushy hair. Her, with her plain face, and childlike body.

Why would Ron want to stay in with her when he could go on nights out with Harry? Ron was gorgeous, he’d be sure to attract women in nightclubs and pubs. It wouldn’t that difficult; Hermione could just imagine all the women throwing themselves at him (her stomach withered with misery at the very thought). So why stay in with _her_ , of all people?

He was always there. And Hermione had always been happy for him to be there. She was his best friend, after all.

But was she really _just that_ to him?

Don’t be silly- Hermione told herself- Ron doesn’t fancy me; he probably fancies someone _glamorous_ , someone _cool_ ; someone who _doesn’t_ spend her entire life with her face buried in books.

 _But what if he didn’t fancy someone like that_ , another part of Hermione’s brain whispered, _what if he fancies YOU_ ….

Oh, please- Hermione shook her head dismissively- it’s no good hoping for that. Why would Ron fancy me; I’m not attractive-

_Has Ron ever said he DOESN’T find you attractive?_

Well, no… in fact, the other night, he’d said she was pretty…but still, that didn’t mean he fancied her. When had he ever shown her that he saw her as more than a friend?

_What about that look he shared with you before Muriel turned up today?_

That was true. His eyes had met hers, and time seemed to have stood still. He had held her hand, and it had seemed like he was going to ask her something. Something _important_.

Something _earth-shattering_.

Something that he needed to _work up the courage to say_.

No, no, no…- Hermione put her face in her hands, trying to quell the burgeoning hope that was overwhelming her heart-…this wasn’t true, this wasn’t possible, she couldn’t be _that_ lucky…

She had spent years holding a torch for Ron; it was too ironic that she’d find out her feelings were returned at the very time she was losing Ron forever.

Once again, it felt like the universe was actively trying to mock her.

Did Ron… see her as more than just a friend? The possibility was almost too perfect to imagine.

But, even if he _did_ , it wouldn’t change anything.

Ron was still being forced into an arranged marriage. Even if Hermione was indeed correct about this, Ron would never be able to tell her. Not while he was stuck in an arranged marriage with their mutual friend. Even if Luna was completely supportive of Ron and Hermione (as she’d shown earlier), Muriel would never let it happen.

Speaking of whom…

‘Ronald! You and your fiancée really must get the paperwork sorted!’

Muriel’s harsh voice cut through the atmosphere like a knife through butter.

‘P-paperwork?’ Ron stammered, before clearing his throat. ‘What do you mean?’

Luna and Ron walked away into the lounge, and Hermione was left, her mind full of confusing and bewildering thoughts.

Wait, why did Ron sound so _scared_? So _confused_? Was he still going to fight against the arranged marriage? It sounded like he had given up.

Hermione let out a small sob. Even if Ron did somehow see her as more than a friend, he was still being pushed into a marriage he didn’t want. And now it seemed like all the fight had gone out of him.

‘Yes, Ronald! The consent forms for the ministry records; they have got a protocol for arranged marriages between pure-bloods like this. Now, if you both sit down and start signing them…’

‘Mrs Prewitt; I’m not signing these-’

‘Don’t be silly, girl!’

There was a pause.

 _Oh god_ , Hermione thought, closing her eyes as her heart began to ache _, he’s given up._

_Ron…. Please… no…_

That was it. Ron had lost hope, and she…. she had lost _Ron_.

‘Muriel, I’m not signing these either-’

Hermione opened her eyes, a tentative smile forming on her lips.

 _That’s my Ron_.  

Her heart suddenly burning with love for the redhead, Hermione grabbed the kitchen door, and stormed into the living room.

Muriel was stood next to a coffee table, which was strewn with various official forms. Luna was sat nearby, looking pensieve. Ron had his arms crossed, and was glaring at Muriel.

‘Ron is not signing those documents!’

‘Yes, he is!’

‘Muriel, I’m not!’

‘Ronald, you have no leg to stand on when it comes to this; you have to get married!’

‘No!’ Hermione cried, her eyes now swimming with tears. ‘He can’t!’

‘And why ever not?!’

‘Because…. because….,’ Hermione stammered, her usually-teeming brain suddenly empty.

Her eyes met Ron’s. He was urging her on... _praying_ for some way out of this.

And there had to be a way. There _had_ to be a way. After all they’d been through, she wasn’t going to lose Ron now; not to _this_.

But what could she do?

All her research into the topic had done was inform her that there was very little lee-way. Old pureblood arranged marriages were almost entirely designed so that the actual marriage partners had no say in the matter. The paperwork surrounding arranged marriages had not changed in centuries, and were a relic of the times when pureblood families inter-married for financial reasons. In wizarding arranged marriages, love simply had no say in the matter.

 _Her_ love for Ron had no say in the matter.

_Oh god, she was losing him…_

And- as her emotions began to overwhelm her- it hit her.

An answer.

Wizarding arranged marriages didn’t care about love. But they did care about propriety. There was one sure-fire way to stop an arranged marriage from going ahead. Ron couldn’t become part of an arranged marriage… if he was already engaged to _someone-else_.

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand, taking heart from the way he immediately wrapped his fingers round hers. Almost as if he felt the same comfort from her as she did from him.  

‘Because…..’

Hermione took a deep breath, and concentrated on the warm feeling of Ron’s hand in hers. She couldn’t lose him _now_ ; not after all this time.

She just prayed that Ron wouldn’t hate her for what she was about to do.

‘Because…’ Hermione exclaimed, her voice reverberating round the room. ‘… Because Ron is engaged to me!’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it! What could be a better birthday present for Ron than Hermione effectively proposing to him? Nothing, that's what!  
> Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the dramatic last-minute ploy from Hermione to save Ron from his arranged marriage, how will everyone react? Will Muriel accept it? Considering Ron and Hermione think their feelings for each-other are unrequited, how will they deal with pretending to be engaged?  
> Read on, dear readers, and find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, everyone; the next chapter! So sorry it took so long to publish this one, but -during the writing stage- it got a lot longer than I expected. I was also out of commission for a few days, as I came down with one of those bugs that's been going around. Needless to say, I couldn't get much writing done until after it had passed.  
> However, that was then, and this is now! Hope you all like it!

‘Because… because Ron is engaged to me!’

Hermione’s words seemed to echo through Ron’s brain, cutting off the whirring mass of tension that had engulfed his mind for the last few minutes. Ron was vaguely aware that the room had gone quiet, but he felt strangely removed from it.

Had.... had Hermione just… _proposed_ to him?

Ron’s stomach seemed to have jumped several feet, and settled somewhere just above his heart, which was also now pounding against his chest. His brain had apparently disengaged, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling in his skull, repeating Hermione’s words over and over in some sort of rhythmic oath.

_Ron is engaged to me… Ron is engaged to me… Ron is engaged to me…._

Mmmm. That sounded good. Very good. What a nice idea. A very nice idea.

 _Oh, shut it, Weasley_ , a more logical part of Ron’s brain exclaimed, _concentrate on the situation!_

What situation again? It was difficult to focus. Something to do with an arranged marriage? With who again? But that didn’t matter. All Ron could focus on was the fuzzy feeling in his brain, carrying that same phrase through his synapses.

_Ron is engaged to me… Ron is engaged to me… Ron is engaged to me…_

That _did_ sound good. Couldn’t he just let this echo through his brain for a while? After all, when was he ever going to hear Hermione say _that_ again? Probably not again in his entire lifetime, that was for sure.

Yeah, he would happily just let that echo for all eternity. The woman he loved had just proposed to him. He was happy. So happy. He-

‘I beg your pardon?’

Aunt Muriel’s harsh voice cut through Ron’s mental fog like a foghorn. The elderly witch was scowling at the two of them.

Ron suddenly remembered that Hermione was still holding his hand. Her skin was soft and smooth on his, and he felt a curious sense of calm, despite the chaos that had erupted in their flat so far that day.

Steeling his resolve, Ron swallowed.

‘M-me and Hermione are engaged, Muriel!’

His words came out clumsy, but he took heart as Hermione squeezed his hand again. Goosebumps went up his arm, but he squeezed her hand back. He was no longer the awkward teenage boy who couldn’t handle physical contact with the girl he loved. He was a now a young man, and he wasn’t going to the awkwardness of his adolescence define him. Especially not now.

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione said, her voice nervous but sharp. Ron squeezed her hand again, and she voice became steady again as she continued. ‘That’s why Ron can’t be engaged to Luna, you see.’

Muriel narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but the flurry of angry phrases she was presumably going to embark on was instead drowned out by the young woman standing nearby.

‘Congratulations!’ Luna exclaimed happily, as she stepped forward to hug Hermione.

‘You didn’t know?’ Muriel asked the blonde, her brow furrowing. She glared at Ron and Hermione. ‘You didn’t tell your friends about this engagement?’

‘W-w-well…’ Hermione spluttered, her face now burning. ‘We… we….  just…’  

Luna chuckled.

‘Oh, you two were too embarrassed to tell us, weren’t you?’

_You’re a bloody angel, Luna…._

‘Y-yeah, that’s it!’ Ron stammered, glad for once that his usual blushing was actually helping their current predicament.

‘Of course,’ Luna said, smiling at her two friends. ‘Everyone’s been saying for years that you two were in love with each-other, so of course you’d be embarrassed to admit you’d finally become a couple.’

Ron’s eyes widened.

Wait, what? _Both of them_? What was Luna talking about? Ron was the one with the one-sided feelings; Hermione wasn’t…. _wasn’t…_

Stop it- Ron told himself- don’t overthink it; Luna’s making a perfect alibi for you; don’t mess it up!

‘Exactly,’ he said, not daring to look at Hermione.

Muriel glared once again at the two young people, before hobbling over to the fireplace, pulling a small pouch of floo powder out of her hand-bag as she did so.

‘I must say; I’m not convinced, Ronald.’ Muriel said, her eyes still narrowed as she turned to stare at them. ‘It all seems rather convenient that you never even thought to mention this to your parents. They told me you were the only one of their children to be single.’

‘Mrs Prewitt, we…we didn’t tell Ron’s parents because we knew how much they’d fuss.’ Hermione said. ‘We just wanted to live quietly as a couple… I mean, as fiancés, rather.’

Muriel pursed her lips, not looking entirely convinced.

‘I suggest you both come to the next Weasley family meal, then,’ the elderly witch said. ‘You need to tell the family of your news; I’m sure Molly would love an excuse to throw an engagement party.’

‘I suppose-’

‘And if you ever break up, Ronald will automatically become engaged to Miss Lovegood again, of course.’

‘You can’t seriously-’

‘Goodbye, Ronald. Miss Granger.’

Muriel climbed into the fire, and was promptly rushed away in a whirl of green flames.

Ron’s stomach gave a worried grumble. Muriel still didn’t believe them, and- if she found proof that they weren’t actually engaged- she’d try to force Ron and Luna into this arranged marriage again.

_Bloody hell, what he wouldn’t give for a quiet life…_

Luna stepped towards the fireplace, pulling her own pouch of floo powder from one of the pockets of her paint-splattered denim dungarees. After pulling Hermione into another hug, Luna looked at Ron -tilting her head to one side- before hugging him too.

 ‘Thanks, Luna.’

‘No problem at all, Ronald.’ The blonde whispered into his ear. ‘Be sure to be good to Hermione, okay?’

Ron’s eyes widened in confusion. Before he could respond, Luna had pulled away and stepped into the fire, before calling ‘The Quibbler!’ and becoming engulfed in the green flames of the floo network.

Ron scratched his head, still at sea about Luna’s befuddling comment.

‘Er… Ron… you can let go of my hand now….’

Ron felt his stomach explode with butterflies as he realised he was still holding Hermione’s hand in his.

‘S-sorry,’ he said, as he reluctantly let go.

‘It’s okay,’ Hermione mumbled, playing with a strand of her bushy hair.

Ron wished she would stop doing that; he had always found it distracting, because he would start fantasising about tangling his own hands in that gorgeous mane of brown hair. Merlin, he was hopeless…

‘I’m… I’m sorry about… all this,’ She said, not quite looking Ron in the eye. ‘I know it’s not the best solution, but it’s the only loophole I could find.’

Ron sighed to himself. She had just saved him from an arranged marriage, and here he was; being a total perv and thinking about fondling her hair. Ron felt sickened with his own hormones. Hermione deserved better than him, deserved better than some pervy git ogling her.

She was such a good friend; bloody hell, _how_ could he not keep falling for her when she was so sweet?

‘I… I can’t thank you enough,’ he mumbled. ‘You saved my bacon there, even if it means you have to…. pretend to be… you know…’

He trailed off awkwardly. The unspoken phrase “my fiancée” hung heavy in the air. 

Hermione dropped her head so that her face became obscured by her hair. She played with a loose strand on her dressing gown.

Oh, merlin, why had he said that? He’d been a stupid great prat and made her uncomfortable! She was his best friend; of course she’d feel awkward about the implication that they were… well, engaged. Why was he like this? He’d let his heart get ahead of his head again! _Nice going, Weasley; you’ve made the woman you love feel uncomfortable to be around you-_

‘I…. I don’t mind.’

Hermione’s voice came out as barely a whisper, but Ron heard it loud and clear. She didn’t mind? How was that even possible? Was she really not see him in a romantic way that little? No, why was she blushing, then? Ron didn’t know much about women, but he knew Hermione well. Hermione rarely got embarrassed; funnily enough, she never seemed to get embarrassed like this around anyone else…

Luna’s comments earlier seemed to echo in Ron’s brain.

_You care a lot for Hermione; don’t you, Ron…_

_Everyone’s been saying for years that you two were in love with each-other…_

_Be good to Hermione…_

Why did everyone keep insisting on this? Hermione clearly didn’t see Ron in the way he saw her, so why did all their friends keep asking about it? Didn’t they realise how obvious it was that Ron’s feelings were purely one-sided?

He’d lost count of the times Harry had asked him about what was going on between him and Hermione. He’d always replied that it would never happen. Then Harry would get an infuriatingly smug look on his face, and ask why. “ _Why_ ”? How did he mean “why”? It was obvious why: Hermione had never fancied Ron!

Come to think of it, Harry’s last words to Ron before he left for Hogwarts had been “be good to Hermione”. Ron had been very confused at the time; what the hell had he meant by that? Ron had always tried to be good to Hermione; she was his best friend, after all. He would gladly kick anyone’s arse if they weren’t good to her. Hell, he’d kick his _own_ arse.

But, now? Ron felt his head whirl. Had Harry implied what Ron thought he was implying? That Hermione... no! No way! Hermione Granger didn’t fancy him. Not _him_ ; plain old Ron Weasley.

So why did everyone keep going on about this? Hermione clearly didn’t fancy him. End of.

_Really? Considering what she’s been like lately, that doesn’t seem that far-fetched. After all, Hermione “doesn’t mind” pretending to be your fiancée…_

A part of Ron’s brain had spoken up. A part of him that he thought he had long since stopped listening to.

That’s just because she’s a good friend- he told himself- she doesn’t want me to end up stuck in an arranged marriage. Hermione’s a good friend. Always has been. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

_Well, then; why did she grab hold of your hand?_

Hermione’s always been physically tactile with her friends. Again, nothing new there. I mean, she doesn’t normally hold my hand, but that’s probably just because she thinks I don’t need my hand holding. Nothing weird about it. I’m sure she’s held Harry’s hand loads of times.

_Oh, really; have you ever seen her do that with Harry?_

Well, no.

_Unusual, considering that you’ve been best friends with her for so long. Maybe she only holds people’s hands if she really likes them? Harry’s like a brother to her, so what does that make you? Someone… to love…_

Okay, shut it- Ron told himself sternly- Just because Hermione held my hand once, that doesn’t mean anything!

_She went back to sleep soundly that other night because you were by her side…_

Yes. Because I’m her best friend. We’ve known each-other for years, after all. She’d do the same for me if I was ever in that situation. Best friends do that for each-other.

_Sure. Best friends ALWAYS act like a domestic couple…_

Ha ha.

_Okay then, what about that weird atmosphere that keeps happening whenever you’re alone together? The same atmosphere that’s currently happening now…_

Bugger.

His brain had a point there. This atmosphere seemed to occur all the time nowadays. But come on…. Hermione wouldn’t feel awkward around _him_. It was probably just him getting confused again over nothing.

Still… why did that keep happening? Maybe he _wasn’t_ just imagining things.

But he was still just plain old Ron Weasley, after all. Why would Hermione feel awkward? He wasn’t as if he was some male model or something. Sure, Ron could admit he wasn’t terrible-looking, but that still didn’t explain this atmosphere. Hermione had known him for years, and they’d spent loads of time alone before. Why was this any different?

Had something changed? Or had it always been like this and he’d never noticed?

Or had it only started changing after this arranged marriage entered the picture. And now he was pretending to be her fiancee; that was certainly a change from how they used to be.

But… come on… Hermione didn’t see him like that. Did she?

_Maybe you should REALLY act like her fiancee and kiss her passionately-_

Shut it!

Ron felt a wave of self-loathing course through his being.

How dare he even _think_ that about Hermione? That was the sort of thing that sexist creeps like Cormac McLaggen thought just so they could get their end away. Ron might be many things- cowardly, insecure, and temperamental (to name just a few) - but a creep was _not_ one of them.

Hermione had pretended to be his fiancee to stop him getting trapped in an arranged marriage, and here he was; hoping to score some cheap snogs for his own sleazy satisfaction. How dare he even _look_ at her if he was contemplating that?

This was _Hermione_ , after all. She deserved better than that. She deserved someone who loved her no matter what, and saw her for the amazing, kind-hearted, intelligent, beautiful, wonderful woman she was.

She deserved better than some randy git using the situation for his own perverted ends.

Ron could see Hermione’s reaction already; slapping him round the face, and staring- hurt and bewilderedly- at him, as if she was only now seeing him for the first time.

In his mind’s eye, she was now fuming at him, yelling things about “ _perverted delusions_ ” and “ _supposed to be my friend"_.

Ron’s heart seemed to pre-emptively shatter at the very thought.

He couldn’t do that to her. He didn’t think he could stand the look disappointment and disgust that would inevitably appear on Hermione’s face. Besides, if he did lose his head completely and cross that line, it would make things even worse. Much worse. When she _inevitably_ turned him down, it would make their daily lives (plus the fake engagement) unbearable.

Hermione was doing all of this for her sake, after all; he couldn’t take advantage of her kindness.

‘Ron… are you okay?’

Ron started, a guilty blush reaching his ears.

Bugger. He’d been so focused on his thoughts that he hadn’t realised he’d been absentmindedly staring at Hermione the entire time. Like a creep.

‘S-sorry,’ he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Was out of it. What were you saying?’

Hermione chuckled softly, but it wasn’t unkind.  

‘ _I said_ I’m going to have a shower now that everyone’s gone.’

‘Oh… right… I’ll make you some lunch, then.’

Hermione smiled at him, her cheeks dimpling slightly.

‘Thank you.’

And with that, she left for the bathroom.

Ron hurriedly started making sandwiches for them both, trying (without much luck) to stay calm.

Which was very difficult, considering that he was now pretending to be Hermione’s fiancee. Ron could barely stop himself from grinning like a lovesick goof. Yes, it was only to get Muriel off their backs, but… he was technically engaged to Hermione! _How amazing was that?_ It was like someone had plucked a naïve teenage daydream out of his head and made it reality.

If only it was real.

After Hermione returned from her shower (now wearing an old Weasley jumper and a pair of jeans), the two of them ate in comfortable silence, although neither of them made eye contact during the meal. Ron wondered whether Hermione was as flustered as he was about this fake engagement thing.

 _Yeah, in your dreams, Weasley,_ he thought to himself.

The afternoon passed fairly quickly. Hermione went out to catch up with Luna, which left Ron alone in the flat. He finished some paperwork that was due on Monday, and dozed off for a few hours in one of the living room chairs.

He had a dream where he and Hermione eloped to Paris for a romantic honeymoon. There was lots of kissing and flower-petals everywhere. Which was a very enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, Ron mused. He’d like to do this more often. He was just kissing the dream-Hermione’s neck (for what felt like the five billionth time, although Ron wasn’t complaining), when he was brought back to reality.

‘Wake up, sleeping beauty.’

Blearily, Ron opened his eyes to find the real-life Hermione carrying a few boxes of Chinese Takeaway under her arm. She was smiling down at him, her eyes twinkling in the evening sunlight that was streaming through the nearby windows.

‘Beauty?’

‘Well, you _are_ a Weasley.’

‘Oh, and here I thought you were _complimenting_ me…’

‘Funny. I’ll give your sweet-and-sour back to the restaurant, then.’

‘Nah; gimme!’

Hermione chuckled as he followed her over to the breakfast bar.

‘Was it a good dream?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You were smiling while you slept.’

Ron felt his ears flush a little.

‘Er… it was about going on holiday.’

‘Oh, yes. We really should make sure we go next year; Fleur did say her family would happily show the three of us around Paris…’

Ron smiled as Hermione started to recite what she planned for their trip to France. They’d discussed it earlier that summer before Harry had applied for the Hogwarts teaching position, but they were still hoping to sort something out. Ron mused that Hermione had some good ideas, although sadly none of them seemed to involve her and Ron kissing under the Eiffel Tower at sunset.  Shame, that.

~~~~~~~~~

 

Several hours later, Ron found himself sat on the sofa, watching television. Hermione had gone to have a bath, which meant Ron was determinately focusing on the film being broadcast so that his mind wouldn’t start imagining… _certain scenes_ involving Hermione in her bath.

He seemed to having a lot of trouble when it came to his mind wandering lately. Maybe this fake engagement was giving his brain too much stimulation. Or maybe he was just a pervy git.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

‘Hi… what are you watching?’

Hermione had finished her bath. She was wearing those adorable pyjamas again, and her hair was wrapped in a turban. Ron couldn’t help noticing that her face was slightly flushed, but maybe that was just from the hot water?

‘Oh…er… a muggle film.’

‘May I join you?’

‘Sure.’ 

Hermione sat down on the sofa, curling her legs underneath her. She looked very cute, especially with all those beads of water dripping down her neck and-

Watch it, Weasley- Ron told himself- that’s your best friend you’re leering at.  

Deciding it was safer to stare at the television set, Ron contented himself with watching a silly advert about vacuum cleaners before turning his attention back to the woman sat nearby.

‘Had a nice bath?’

Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

‘You okay?’

‘Yes. Just… well, it’s been a funny old day.’

‘Understatement of the century.’

‘We’re only a few years into this century.’

‘Don’t care. Nothing-else will top it.’

Hermione laughed. Not the sort of polite laughter that she had perfected for her professional life, but free and unrestrained, with lots of snorting and head shakes. She rarely showed this to anyone. Except those closest to her. And only when she felt relaxed and at-ease with herself.

If anything, it made Ron love her even more than he already did. He really was hopeless, wasn’t he?

‘Actually, Ron… I was wondering…’-Hermione tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear- ‘Well…. you know we have to pretend to be… engaged…’

Ron felt his stomach contract. Why was she bringing this up?

‘Y-yeah…’

‘W-well…’ Hermione continued, stammering slightly. She seemed intensely interested in smoothing out her dressing gown. ‘If you’re okay with it… maybe we should…act a bit more like a c-couple… j-just so we allay your aunt’s suspicions a bit…’

There was a deafening silence.

Ron felt his palms become very sweaty. Was she seriously suggesting that they… practice doing couple-y stuff? Doing couple-y things with Hermione under the guise of “practice”? Was the universe mocking him again?

‘U-um…well…’

‘O-only if you’re comfortable with it, obviously!’ Hermione squeaked, hesitantly meeting Ron’s eyes. ‘I understand if you didn’t want to be subjected to-’

‘Subjected to?’ Ron exclaimed, feeling baffled. ‘Are you barmy? ‘Mione, you’re _gorgeous_ ; what bloke wouldn’t like to do that with you?!’

Ron clapped a hand to his mouth, as if trying to make the words go back in. But it was too late. The damage had been done.

Hermione’s mouth had fallen open, and her warm-bronze face seemed to flush.

He waited for her to get over her shock, and to –no doubt- slap him and storm off in disgust to her room. But no such reaction happened.

‘ _R-really_?’ Hermione whispered, her eyes shyly meeting Ron’s. ‘You really think I’m…. g-gorgous?’

Ron nodded, his ears burning as red as his hair.

Hermione smiled, her cheeks dimpling. _Merlin, she was cute…_

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, as if deliberating on what to say.

‘You’re… you’re gorgeous too, Ron.’

Ron could have happily died and gone to heaven in that moment, but he didn’t. Instead, his ears burned an even deeper shade of red, and his stomach exploded with butterflies again.  

‘Thanks.’

There was another long silence.

Deciding to risk breaching the topic again, Ron cleared his throat.

‘So, ‘Mione,’-Ron said, nervously. ‘What… er, what… do you mean by “act like a couple”, exactly?’

If possible, Hermione looked even more embarrassed than before.

‘N-nothing untoward, of course.’ She stammered, blinking very quickly. ‘C-cuddling maybe…. holding hands… that sort of thing… only if it’s alright with you, of course…’

Ron felt himself relax a little. If she had been implying more… physical things, he probably would have passed out from the shock. But cuddling?  Holding hands? He could do both those quite happily, even if he would probably blush whilst doing them (well, it _was_ with Hermione, after all…).

‘Okay… well, ready when you are…’

Hermione hesitantly scooted over, so that she was now sat directly next to Ron.

‘Is… is this okay?’

Ron raised an eyebrow.  

‘‘Mione- no offence- but this isn’t exactly couple-y…’

‘Well, you try, then!’

Without even thinking, Ron put an arm round Hermione’s shoulders and pulled her gently into his side.

The sudden contact was jarring for both of them.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and Ron felt her shoulders tense under his arm.  

‘S-sorry,’ Ron mumbled, mentally cursing himself. He’d gone too far. ‘This is too much. I should-’

‘N-no, it’s fine,’ Hermione said, quietly. ‘This is nice.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

And -as if to make it clear- Hermione snuggled further into Ron’s side, putting his arms round his middle, and tucking her legs underneath her again.

Ron felt like blood was roaring in his ears. Really? She really was okay with it? She _liked_ cuddling with him?

_Bloody hell…_

Ron thought he would have been incredibly nervous in this situation, but- once again- he felt strangely calm being so physically close to Hermione. Which was great. If he _had_ been nervous, no doubt the bushy-haired witch (whose head was currently nuzzled into his shoulder) would have heard his accelerated heartbeat. 

‘So… what’s this muggle film about?’

Hermione’s voice was soft and quiet. It gave Ron a strange thrill to hear her so close to his ear. It was such a… _intimate_ thing. Almost like they really were a couple, instead of just practicing.

‘Er… some romantic comedy, I think.’

‘I think I’ve seen this one before.’

‘W-well, we can change it to a different channel, if you want-’

‘No, I like it. It’s a nice film.’

Ron privately agreed. He forgot the name, but it was about two friends who slowly fall in love with each-other. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why _that_ plot was so appealing to him.

They sat in silence for a while. It was quite nice; sat there with Hermione cuddled up to him in her pyjamas. He’d never been this close to her before, but it felt so… natural. Like they were the other’s perfect other half. Ron thought back to how he’d been as a teenager; getting terrified if he so much as _touched_ Hermione’s hand accidentally. That awkward young boy he had been would never have been to cuddle with the woman he loved like this.

However, that wasn’t the point. Hermione didn’t see him that way, but so what? Even if Hermione only saw him as a friend, he didn’t mind. Like he’d promised himself previously, he’d take whatever Hermione wanted to give him, and treasure every moment. Even if it _did_ make his heart wrench that she didn’t see him that way, he still loved Hermione.

He couldn’t imagine feeling happier than he was at that moment, and he was sure that he would this scene would be playing in his head whenever he next used the patronus charm.

Still… Ron couldn’t help feel a twinge of regret… this wasn’t real, after all… _they were just practicing…_

Sat like this, they looked exactly like a couple; which –of course– was why they were doing this. It was why Hermione had suggested this. She just wanted them to practice, so Muriel wouldn’t get suspicious. They couldn’t be blushing constantly if they were supposedly engaged. Hermione was a firm believer in “practice makes perfect”, and that even extended to things like this.

Hermione yawned, standing up to get herself a glass of water. Within seconds, Ron missed the feeling of her cozied up to him. But she returned quickly.

She put down her glass and settled back down again.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it-’

Ron froze. Hermione hadn’t sat down where she had been before. Instead of cuddling into Ron’s side, she was now lying on the sofa. She had placed her head in his lap.

_WHAT?!_

Ron’s heart seemed to explode as his mind frantically scrambled to make sense of this. How had he not noticed? And why on earth had Hermione done this? And so naturally, too?

_‘‘M-Mione… w-what are you doing?’_

Hermione seemed to realise what she had done, and she began to splutter incoherently.

‘I-I’m so sorry, Ron!’ She stammered, taking her head off his lap. ‘I didn’t even realise I was… oh god, I’m sorry! I’ve made you uncomfortable-‘

 ‘N-no! I- I don’t mind…’

Hermione’s eyes widened. She eyes flicked between Ron’s face and his lap.

‘W-well… is… _is it okay if I_ …’

She was going to get him a heart attack.

‘S-sure….’

And Ron was going to let her give him a heart attack, apparently. Still looking flustered, Hermione delicately moved and placed her head back onto Ron’s lap.

‘Are… are you _sure_ this is okay…?’

Her voice quavered slightly. Why was she doing this if she was _so nervous_ about it?  

‘Y-yeah. N-no problem, ‘Mione.’

Hermione went silent for a moment.

‘R-Ron…’

‘Yeah?’

‘… I’m… I’m glad you’re not in an arranged marriage anymore.’

‘M-me too…’

There was another long silence, broken only by the noise of the television, but Ron could barely hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat.

‘Ron?’

‘Yeah?’

_‘… Can we stay like this for a while?’_

Ron swallowed.

‘For as long as you want, ‘Mione.’

They didn’t talk again for a long time. The flat was silent around them, aside from the television.

Hermione began to doze off, her head lolling slightly on Ron’s legs.

Ron chuckled.

Without thinking, he reached out and stroked her enormous bushy hair. It was wonderfully soft from her bath, and looked beautiful in the glow of the lamp next to them.

Hermione murmured softly to herself as he did so, and Ron hastily removed his hand.

_‘No… don’t stop…’_

Ron smiled and resumed his stroking of her hair. Hermione murmured happily as he did so, and Ron felt his stomach flip over.

How on earth was he so lucky? To have this wonderful, brilliant, amazing woman as his friend was nothing short of a miracle. And now he was sat- her head in his lap- stroking her hair as she dozed, almost like they were an _actual_ couple, instead of just pretending.

He didn’t know how long he continued stroking her hair like that, but eventually the muggle film finished, and the late night news came on. 

Hermione’s breathing had become long and deep. Guessing that her dozing had turned into actual sleep, Ron smiled down at her fondly. Switching off the television, he gently eased her off himself, before carrying her to her room.

Being as quiet and as gentle as he could, he laid Hermione down on her bed, and folded her duvet over her. She looked so peaceful lying there -without a care in the world- that Ron felt his heart ache just to look at her.

 _‘Mmmm…. Ron…_. _’_ Hermione murmured, sleepily. _‘Sorry… made you carry me…’_

Ron chuckled.

‘Ssshhhhh, love…. It’s no problem….’

Hermione folded her hand around his arm, humming happily to herself under her breath. She didn’t seem to have reacted to Ron calling her ‘love’, which struck Ron as a bit odd. Maybe her brain was just that addled from drowsiness? She’d probably tease him about it in the morning, no doubt.

But the morning was a long time away. For the time being, Hermione was drowsy, peaceful, and her hand was on Ron’s wrist, her touch soft and delicate on his skin.

_‘Stay.’_

‘I’m not going anywhere, ‘Mione…’

Hermione smiled dreamily. 

_‘That’s good…. couldn’t stand it if you weren’t here….’_

Ron smiled, brushing strands of her bushy hair out of her face. Merlin, he loved this woman. Even if she didn’t see him that way, he’d be alright. Even if she only saw him as-

 _‘‘M glad you’re not marrying Luna…’_ Hermione said, her smile wide and happy. _‘Really glad… couldn’t bare life without you, Ron… it’s just a shame that we’re just… we’re just…’_

Hermione drifted off into sleep.

Wait, _what_?

Ron’s head reeled in confusion.

What the bloody hell did she mean by that? Was she being serious? Why was she saying those things? _Did she… did she…_

Nah, that was ridiculous. She was probably just exhausted from everything that had happened that day. He couldn’t get his hopes up.

Ron made to stand up, but something stopped him.

Hermione’s hand was still gently holding onto his arm, as if it was her sole source of comfort. As if she didn’t want to let him go.  

Ron smiled, delicately easing her fingers open and placing her hand onto the top of her duvet. 

‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me, ‘Mione.’

Ron bent down and tenderly placed his lips onto her forehead.

‘ _Ron…_ ’

Bugger; was she awake?

Nope. But she was now smiling softly to herself as she slept. It was probably just his imagination that her cheeks had flushed again.

Ron chuckled as he opened the bedroom door to let himself out.

‘Goodnight, ‘Mione.’.

~~~~~~

 

Entering his own room, Ron changed into an old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He climbed into bed, and crossed his hands behind his head, letting out a soft sigh.

What a weird day. He’s started it miserable and being forced into an arranged marriage, and finished it pretending to be engaged to Hermione, snuggled up with her on their sofa.

It had been a shock when Luna had been revealed as his marriage partner. Sure, Ron didn’t have problems with Luna; she was kind, brave and a solid friend. But he was glad they didn’t have to go through the arranged marriage Muriel had planned. And now he was pretending to be Hermione’s fiancé, which (as much as Ron kept telling himself not to enjoy it) he still felt incredibly happy about.

Engaged to Hermione? Merlin’s beard, that sounded brilliant. More than brilliant. Fantastic. The most wonderful thing he could imagine. As if his heart was physically bursting with how happy he was.

Bugger. How sad was he? Getting happy about pretending to be the fiancé of his crush? He was such a creep.

But- then again- when was he ever going to be in this situation again? He’d never do anything to make Hermione uncomfortable, of course, but he couldn’t help wishing that maybe… just maybe… this situation might help her see him in a different way. Well, either way, he’d be there for Hermione no matter what. She was doing all this for his sake, after all, which proved just how much of a good friend she was.

_Merlin, he loved that woman…_

It did seem weird, though. Yes, they were just practicing so that Aunt Muriel wouldn’t suspect anything, but Hermione had seemed very… nervous about practicing. And she’d blushed when he called her gorgeous.

And she’d called him gorgeous. _Him_. Plain old Ron Weasley.

Hermione Granger thought he was gorgeous.

Was there a possibility she… that she might…

 _Don’t be daft, Weasley_ \- he told himself - _the last time you thought THAT was possible with Hermione, you only got your heart broken…_

Ron drifted off into an uneasy sleep full of dreams about weddings, but also about Hermione slapping him round the face whilst looking disgusted.

_His subconscious really didn’t like him, did it?_

However, a loud knocking noise woke him.

Blearily, Ron opened his eyes. Judging from the clock beside his bed, it was two in the morning.

The knocking happened again. Ron was now on edge. His training from the post-war period kicking in, he grabbed his wand from his bedside table.

‘Who’s there?’

‘R-Ron…’

_Hermione._

Ron sprang out of bed, crossing his room in barely two steps, and threw his door open.

‘‘Mione… what is it-?’

It was at that point that a large force rammed into his torso.

Hermione had thrown herself at him, and was now sobbing into his chest.

‘‘Mione… what….?’

More weeping. She seemed to be beyond words.

Ron put his arms round her, and held her close, rocking her softly in an attempt to calm her. His t-shirt became soaked with tears, but he didn’t care. This was Hermione. She was upset and she needed him; at that moment (like many other moments throughout the years he had known Hermione), all that mattered to him was making her feel better. Gradually, her sobs became quieter, and Ron opened his mouth to whisper into her hair.

‘Nightmare?’

Hermione nodded against his chest.

‘Do you want me to sit by your bed again?’

There was a pause.

‘‘Mione?’

‘P-please don’t leave me…’

‘I’m not going to-’

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wide and fearful.

‘I-I can’t sleep without you there, Ron. I… I _need_ you, Ron.’

_Bloody hell…_

She really _was_ going to give him a heart attack if she wasn’t careful. He was already in love with her already, without her saying things like _that_.

‘‘Mione… I-I don’t think that’s a good idea-’

‘P-please, Ron! Please…’

‘‘Mione…’

‘Ron, please….let me sleep here with you!’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it! If so, please leave kudos and/or comments! 
> 
> I aim to get the next chapter published within the next month, so look out for updates!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When we last left off, Hermione had just issued her extraordinary plea to sleep in Ron's room. How will Ron react? Why was Hermione so scared? And how they both handle sleeping in the same bed? Read on, dear readers, read on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! So sorry about the delay on this chapter; I was having a lot of issues in the editing stage for this chapter. As you might have noticed already, the rating on this fic has gone from a 'Teen and Up' to a 'Mature'. And therein lies the issue I was struggling with; how best to keep the story focused whilst still keeping in the more... mature themes needed for the character development in this chapter. Hopefully, I've managed to strike a balance.  
> This is somewhat new territory for me, as I've never really written about this sort of thing before. While there isn't anything graphic, there are some references to mature themes, for which I deemed it necessary to change the rating on the fic.  
> I hope you all still like it, though; rest assured that -if you don't feel comfortable reading this- I will be recapping the events of this chapter in the following update without any explicit details.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for continuing to read this series!

And there it was; the single most _embarrassing_ thing Hermione had ever said.

She had asked to sleep with Ron. Not have him sat by her until she fell asleep. Actually _sharing a bed_ with him.

How terrified was she again? Enough to abandon all reason and logic, apparently. Ron seemed to have that effect on her, as-of-late. Well, that was a misnomer. He’d always done this to her, but she’d only recently started giving into it.

_Oh, did she sure want to give in to it…_

‘Mione… what?’

Hermione buried her head again in his pyjama top, still sobbing. She couldn’t bare to talk. She only wanted to feel Ron’s comforting arms around her, as he continued to rock her softly. They acted like a barrier to the rest of the harsh world of war, nightmares and death; keeping her safe and warm. People had always been confused as to what was so special about Ron Weasley, but Hermione knew why. Ron was her rock. Her beacon of hope in a terrible storm. The reminder that not all was lost. Maybe he wasn’t some typical romantic lead, but Hermione didn’t care; to her, Ron would always be the true hero. No-one else would ever come close.

_‘Sssshhhhh…. ‘Mione…. it’s okay…. it’s okay…. it was only a nightmare…’_

Ron was so sweet. So kind. So comforting. His hands delicately stroked her back in soothing circles as he rocked her, and (she prayed she wasn’t imagining it) he seemed to press a kiss to her head as he cradled her in his arms. What had she done to deserve such a wonderful person in her life? Whatever it was, she was immensely grateful. The rest of the world to rot for all she cared; all she wanted was for Ron to keep holding her, whispering comforting words in her ear, and never letting her go for all eternity.

 

After a while, Hermione pulled away, wiping her eyes clumsily with the sleeve of her pyjama top.

‘S-sorry, Ron…’

‘It’s no problem.’

‘I… I should just get back to my room…’

She turned to leave, but she was stopped in her tracks as Ron reached out and grabbed her by the arm, so that she swung back round to face him. His strength wasn’t harsh, but gentle and tender. And Hermione fell straight against him, as if her body wasn’t listening to her brain.

Ron’s blue ears were concerned, and intense. So intense. Like the blinding summer sky on a hot day. The sort of aura that dazzled and paralyzed all who saw it. But Hermione felt herself unable to pull away from those aqua-tinted pools. Like a moth to a flame. Except the flame was the striking ginger hair that sprawled over the young man’s forehead.  

‘Do you _really_ think you’re going to be able to sleep?’

Ron’s voice was serious. He was clearly concerned.   

Hermione bit her lip, desperately trying not to lose her willpower. She was an intelligent person with a sharp tongue; she could stand up to anyone.

But it sure didn’t feel like that as she stared into Ron’s earnest face, and her quavering voice betrayed her.

‘I’m… I’m sure I’ll be fine…’

‘I can’t let you stay miserable. C’mere.’

He enveloped his arms around her again, and Hermione felt the familiar warm, fuzzy feeling that happened every time he did this. It was intoxicating. Damn it, she couldn’t give up so easily! She had to maintain her cool.  

‘I’m… I’m not a child, Ron.’ She stammered, trying to put some authority into her voice. ‘I can look after myself.’

Ron pulled away slightly, but his hands clasped softly on her shoulders.

‘I’m _well aware_ of that, ‘Mione. But I’m not leaving you. Especially not now.’

Oh, god, _why_ did he have to say things like _that_? _She could barely resist as it was…_

‘Ron… no… it’s fine, really… it’s only a n-nightmare after all-’

Ron kneeled down in front of her, and cupped her face in his hands, fixing her with an intense stare.

‘Mione…You know as well as I do that they aren’t just normal nightmares’.

‘B-but still… wouldn’t it bother you if I was sleeping in your b-bed with you?’

‘It would bother me more to know that you were suffering. Please, ‘Mione… _let… let me be here for you._ ’

How sad was it that Hermione’s heart jumped into her throat when he said that in _that_ voice?

Probably not much sadder than the fact she allowed him to lead her over to his bed, and climb after him under the covers. Ron’s tall form towered over her as he sat up to turn off the light with his wand, his muscles rippling under his pyjama top. Hermione felt a shiver go up her spine, and she felt herself sink into the comforting warmth of the duvet, enveloped by a scent she could only describe as “Ron Weasley”.

_She really was hopeless, wasn’t she?_

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

But how on earth had this all happened?

She had started the day coming up with the idea of pretending to be engaged to Ron. It was all to stop Ron being forced into an arranged marriage with Luna. It had amazed Hermione that she had come up with such an ingenious plan in the spur of the moment. Maybe it was her fear that Ron would leave her? Whatever it was, it had saved Ron from an arranged marriage.

There had a… moment. After Muriel and Luna had left. When Hermione and Ron were alone in the flat again.

Ron had held onto her hand long after everyone had left, and he had seemed reluctant to let go.

Hermione had mumbled that she didn’t mind pretending to be Ron’s fiancee. That was normal, though, wasn’t it? She was a concerned friend, after all. She’d do anything if it meant Ron was happy. Nothing out of the ordinary, there. Even if Hermione’s words weren’t entirely… platonic in nature. Even if… in the depths of her heart… she wanted it to be real.

But had Ron noticed this?

There had been a moment when he been staring at her. In that way that he sometimes did. His gorgeous blue eyes would focus on her, as if she was the most important person in the world to him… _almost like he…like he…_

Hermione had felt a shiver go up her spine in that moment.

When she’d asked Ron why he was staring at her, she could have sworn that his ears had flushed the vivid Weasley red. Did… did that mean something? Surely… surely not. Ron did get embarrassed a lot, but this was different. Him? Staring at her? Why was he doing that? And so soon after he had been holding her hand, too. Could he… no, that was silly. Impossible.

But -she thought to herself as she had showered a few minutes later- Luna had hinted that Hermione had always been looking at Ron’s actions in the wrong way.

_“Maybe you should stop looking for reasons why Ron couldn’t love you, and start looking for signs that he does...”_

Hermione felt her heart clench sharply within her chest, but had dismissed the thought. Ron didn’t love her; Luna was just mistaken. When they had all been at Hogwarts, many people had assumed that she was dating Harry. The very thought of which made Hermione burst out laughing. Harry was like a little brother to her.

But (a suspiciously crafty part of her mind reminded her) Ron had never been like a brother to her. And _she_ was certainly not like a sister to him. Her interactions with Ron had always been completely different to how she interacted with Harry. She could give Harry a hug without so much as a second thought, but… she had never been able to be so physically relaxed around Ron. Ron was different. Towards Hermione, he had always been… well, she had never thought that Ron saw her like a sister, _that_ was for sure.

Maybe she was just overthinking things. Ron wasn’t really physically close with any girls; maybe it was the result of growing up with five older brothers. That wasn’t to say that Ron didn’t respect women, of course, but he always seemed on-edge around her compared to how he was with Harry.

Yes, that was probably it.

But this had clearly stuck in her mind; as she had ended up bring up the subject when she saw Luna that afternoon. Hermione didn’t have many female friends, so -whenever Luna was in town- Hermione would meet up with her for coffee in Diagon Alley (well, Luna always had hot chocolate, but still).

‘Luna… what… what did you mean earlier today… about Ron?’

The two of them had been sat at a table, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace nearby. Luna had smiled sweetly at her, and chuckled.

‘I mean what I said, Hermione.’

‘But-’

‘Hmmm?’

Luna stared, her enormous grey eyes reflecting the sunlight pouring through the café.

‘I meant it. About everything. About you and Ronald. You see?’

Feeling more confused than ever, Hermione said her goodbyes to Luna, and left for home.

After getting takeaway from a Chinese restaurant, Hermione had returned to their flat to find Ron sleeping soundly in one of the living room chairs. He looked so peaceful that she didn’t try to wake him at first. There was a dreamy smile on his face as he dozed, and his hair was gloriously messy in that way that only Ron could pull off.

What had he been dreaming about, anyway? He had gone slightly red when she asked. No doubt it had been about something about his childhood. He often got embarrassed about that. But maybe… maybe he was dreaming about someone… maybe a woman… maybe her-

_Stop it!_ -She mentally chided herself, as she ate- _Even if Luna and Harry both think Ron fancies me, that doesn’t automatically mean that he’s dreaming about me. After all, who would look happy whilst dreaming about some know-it-all with awful hair?_

That evening, Hermione had taken a bath, and -hearing the sounds of the television- decided to join Ron on the sofa. This was nice; it was quite normal for them to watch films together in the evening, and it felt like some sense of normalcy had returned after the bizarre day they had had.

And then -somehow- she had come up with the idea of “practicing” being couple-y! _How had she done that_? It was either a stroke of genius or the worst idea she’d ever had. Knowing her luck, it was probably the latter.

But _Ron_ didn’t think it was the worst idea she’d had at all. In fact, he actually seemed really happy about it.

When she’d suggested that he probably didn’t want to be subjected to it, he’d called her… gorgeous. Her; gorgeous!

Hermione had assumed that her heart had just given out at that moment, because she didn’t think she could hear it beating. Or maybe it was just beating too fast? Or –quite possibly- it was because she seemed to lost interest in anything that didn’t involve Ron Weasley at that given moment.

Ron thought she was gorgeous. Ron Weasley _actually_ thought _she_ was gorgeous!

Hermione knew that she wasn’t the worst-looking person, but… gorgeous? That wasn’t something people said about her. Ever.

But Ron _had_. And very enthusiastically, as well.

He’d put his arm around her, and cuddled her close. He’d been so sweet and sensitive, checking in to make sure she was okay with what they were doing. It was almost too wonderful for Hermione to bare. This felt so… right. Why did the universe so insist on torturing her?

Well, if this was the universe’s idea of torture, then Hermione must have been a glutton for punishment. The film had been about two friends that slowly fell in love. She sighed softly as she wished she could go through the same thing with the best friend she was currently cuddled up to.

Hermione could have passed out from the sheer happiness she felt.

In fact, she must have done. Because how else could she have ended up putting her head in Ron’s lap so effortlessly?

She had felt her face burn; she hadn’t even _realised_ she was doing it! It was almost like her body knew what she wanted better than she did. But Ron… Ron had been fine with that too! Why? How? How on earth was he so welcoming to all of this?

Yes, he’d spluttered and stammered just as much as she had, but he didn’t stop her. In fact, he’d even suggested she continued laying her head in his lap.

_Good grief, this man was going to be the death of her…_

She’d asked if they could stay like that for a while, and Ron had said they could for as long as she wanted. That… meant something. Surely. Or maybe she was just being delusional. Either way, she had her head in the lap of the man she loved, and -not only did he not mind- but he was happy for her to continue doing it. She was going to enjoy this moment as much as she could.

She was so relaxed, however, that -at some point- she must have dozed off.

She was dimly aware of her hair being stroked. This was a nice dream; she must have been imagining Ron softly running his fingers through her bushy mess of hair. His hands were delicate, and tentative, as if he was enamoured with her hair. Hermione grinned to herself; as if anyone would ever feel that towards the mess she begrudgingly called a hairstyle. But she supposed that was what dreams were for, after all. Fantasy.

And this was certainly a very wonderful fantasy. Very wonderful, indeed. She half-hoped she’d never wake up, and could enjoy this forever. Which sounded divine to her sleepy mind.

_Mmmm…._

Ron’s hand paused.

_No… don’t stop…_

Ron resumed his stroking of her hair. This was a nice dream, Hermione though, _shame he would never do this in reality…_

Hermione wasn’t sure when, but time seemed to get fuzzy. The next thing she knew, she was being delicately laid down into her soft bed, and her duvet then being placed softly over her. The arms were strong, and covered in those scars that she knew so well. No-one else had arms like that.

_Mmmm…. Ron… sorry…. made you carry me…_

‘Ssshhhhh, love…. It’s no problem….’

Hermione hummed happily to herself, smiling. She was dimly aware of her hand wrapping around Ron’s arm. His skin felt smooth and warm under her touch, and heart swelled with a deep feeling of contentment.

Something about Ron’s words sounded… _different_ to how he usually spoke to her… what was she missing? It sounded so lovely. But that wasn’t unusual for Ron; he _was_ lovely. So, what was it? Her mind couldn’t quite put together the pieces. If only she was more awake; her brain would normally be brilliant at this. Oh, well; her stomach had a gloriously fuzzy feeling to it. She was happy. Although she wasn’t really sure why. She supposed it had something to do with the wonderful redhead who had carried her to bed. Mmmmm… “to bed”. With Ron. That sounded nice.

_Stay…_

‘I’m not going anywhere, ‘Mione…’

Hermione slipped into unconsciousness, still smiling dreamily as she held onto Ron’s arm. She was vaguely aware that she was still speaking, but she couldn’t really pinpoint _what_ she was saying. Something to do with really liking having Ron be around her? Yes, that sounded right. And it was true.

She was his friend, after all. _It was… just a shame that they were just… were just…_

Hermione’s thoughts became clouded and her mind seemed content to just focus on the feeling of Ron’s skin on hers.

‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me, ‘Mione.’

She might have just been imagining things, but it almost felt like his words were followed-up by the sensation of lips pressing against her forehead. That felt so wonderful. Like she was floating on air. Such a glorious sensation. She hoped she would never forget it. She’d cherish that moment in her heart for as long as she lived.

_Ron…_

Hermione felt herself grinning again. He was so sweet… but his words felt… weird… what did he mean by that?...

‘Goodnight, ‘Mione.’

~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Hermione’s initial dreams of Ron cuddling her did not –unfortunately- last for long. Once again, she was thrust into a horrendous nightmare.

Again, she was being tortured. Her screams echoed around the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, as immeasurable pain racked her body. So much so, that it was as if her very soul was being torn apart.

The cruciatus curse. Over and over. Pain. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Could only scream.

And this time, Ron wasn’t there. There was no voice screaming her name from the cellar below. No rescue. No Ron.

_Crucio!_

Her eyes became obscured, and her heart seemed to stop.

 

With a horrible start, Hermione woke up, tears streaming from her eyes. Her room was dark and foreboding around her. Hermione wiped her eyes with her duvet, and swung her legs onto the floor, taking deep breaths as she struggled to calm herself down. But to no avail.

_Ron_.

She needed Ron.

Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed her wand from the bedside table, and burst through her bedroom door into the hallway, not even bothering to throw her dressing gown on. The flat was silent around her, but the darkness seemed to play with her mind, reminding her of dark mansions, horcrux hunts, and running battles inside Hogwarts School.

Working on instinct as her brain unsuccessfully scrambled to be logical, Hermione hammered at the door of Ron’s room.

The silence of the flat around her was broken by the sound of bed-springs creaking behind the closed door.

‘Who’s there?’

‘ _R-Ron…_ ’

The door swung open, and there stood the tall redhead, clad in his pyjamas, his eyes wide with alarm and worry.

‘‘Mione… what is it-?’

Before she could stop herself, Hermione flung her arms around his midriff, and broke down completely. Her tears soaked through Ron’s top almost immediately, and Hermione’s body was racked with sobs as she clung to him. Her fingers became entangled in the material of his top. Almost like she was terrified of being pulled away from him at any moment. Which -she supposed- she was.  

‘‘Mione… what….?’

Hermione couldn’t stop crying long enough to answer.

Hermione once again felt that wonderful cosy feeling she had experienced earlier when she had cuddled up next to Ron on the sofa. The redhead had enveloped his long arms around her, and he began to rock her softly. The tenderness she could feel from him was almost enough to completely break the last vestiges of her self-control.

‘Nightmare?’ Ron whispered into her hair, making goose-bumps erupt on her neck.

She nodded into his chest; feeling like the warmth of his body was her only connection to the world. Anchoring her to the physical plain around them. God, she felt so pathetic, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to keep clinging to the redheaded man, and to feel the gentle thud of his heartbeat through his chest.

‘Do you want me to sit by your bed again?’

No. That wasn’t going to be enough. She didn’t want to be separated from him. She couldn’t. She didn’t think she could bare it.

‘‘Mione?’

He needed to know.

_‘P-please don’t leave me…’_

‘I’m not going to-’

Hermione pulled away slightly from Ron’s torso, her hands still bundled in his top, and (through streaming eyes) stared into Ron’s gorgeous blue orbs. Those piercing blue eyes that seemed to radiate hope, light, and comfort. Ever since she was a teenager, she had been held in the sway of those wondrous eyes; in equal parts captivated and awed. Like staring up at the stars on a cloudless night. The main difference being that these two stars were far closer to home, and _oh so_ comforting.

Oh, was the use in hiding her request? Her dignity had long since left her. _What else did she have to lose?_

‘I-I can’t sleep without you there, Ron. I… I _need_ you, Ron.’

Ron stared down at her, agog. He must have thought she’d lost all semblance of her sanity. But Hermione didn’t care. She didn’t care if Ron had thought she’d gone insane. Well, maybe a little bit. But she was far beyond the point of fear. All she wanted was for him to stay with him, to block out the hurt and misery, and to never let her go. She didn’t need anything-else, she just wanted _him_.

‘‘Mione… I-I don’t think that’s a good idea-’

_‘P-please, Ron! Please…’_

‘‘Mione…’

_‘Ron, please….let me sleep here with you!’_

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

So there it was.

 

Ron didn’t have a very large bed, so the two of them were laying side-by-side. Which Hermione was very aware of.

Well, it was hard _not_ to be aware of it when Ron’s side was pressed into hers, making goose-bumps erupt up her arms and causing shivers to go up her spine. He was currently turning off his bedside light. She was also incredibly aware that Ron’s duvet smelled like him, and that the distinctive aroma he carried seemed to be enveloping her.

How the heck was she supposed to sleep under such conditions? _How was she supposed to-?_

At that moment, her brain short-circuited because Ron had interlaced his fingers with hers.

‘R-Ron?’ She stammered, her throat dry. ‘W-what are you doing?’

‘W-well, it helped last time you had nightmares, didn’t it?’

‘Yes, b-but are… are you sure it’s okay with you?’

‘‘Mione, I’m… here for you. W-whatever makes you feel better is fine with me.’

_Why did he have to be wonderful?_ It wasn’t fair.

‘T-thank you.’

‘No… no worries.’

Ron’s breathing gradually slowed, and was soon replaced by the sounds of sleep.

Hermione delicately squeezed the redhead’s hand. He was such a good friend.

It was just sad that he was only doing this because he cared for her as a friend. At least, that’s what Hermione’s brain told her. But –then again- was that really _all_ there was to it? After all, Harry had been encouraging Hermione for years about her feelings for Ron. And Luna seemed to think that there was a chance.

But what if they were wrong? What Hermione made a play for Ron, and he rejected her? Obviously, he would never want to hurt her, but she couldn’t bear to lose him as a friend. She couldn’t risk it.

But what if what Luna had said was true? What if Ron really did see Hermione in the same way she saw him?  She’d always assumed that Ron only saw her as a friend. She had long since given up hope that anything would change between them. But -lately- things seemed to have been changing. What if she was completely mistaken, and wrecked their friendship in the process? She didn’t think she could bare the heartbreak. But what if she had a chance?

_Oh, it was all so complicated…_

Hermione drifted into an uneasy sleep. Unfortunately -despite Ron’s comforting presence next to her- the nightmares slowly returned.

It was Malfoy Manor. It was _always_ Malfoy Manor; over and over again. But (like with all of her nightmares) Ron’s voice was never there to ground her to reality. All she could feel was pain as the cruciatus curse ripped through her being. Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice, shrieking the same curse.

_Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!_

It never stopped hurting.

Her breath hitched pathetically in her throat, and she felt for sure that her lungs had given up. Her eyes seemed to roll back in her head, taking her into a world of blackness, empty aside from the raw pain emanating from every inch of her body and soul. And the wishing for the cold hand of death upon her.

 

Hermione woke up, her eyes streaming once again with tears. She was flushed with sweat and her face were rapidly becoming sore from the sheer amount of tears pouring down her cheeks.

Why did this keep happening? Would she never get a decent night sleep again? Was she cursed to relive that awful night over and over again for the rest of her-

_‘‘Mione… c’mere…’_

Before she quite knew what was going on, Hermione found herself being pulled into Ron’s arms, so that she was pressed up against his side. She could feel his heart beating through his chest, and his intoxicating scent seemed to clear her head. Like a cool breeze on a hot summers day. Calming her, soothing her, and relaxing her.

_‘Mione… Shhhh…,’_ Ron murmured into her hair as he gently stroked her upper back. _‘It’s okay, love…’_

What? What had he just called her?

Probably nothing. He was half-asleep. He didn’t mean it.

_But if only he did._

_If only._

Yes, he was her friend, but things seemed to be… changing lately. Especially considering his behaviour around her the past few weeks. He seemed to actively be trying to comfort her, be there for her, and support her, even more than he normally did. And the new way he was doing it didn’t feel… entirely platonic in nature. Or was Hermione just seeing what she wanted to see?

Knowing her luck, he had probably just got used to being touchy-feely with her due to the fake engagement thing, and had stopped worrying about being physically close with her.

_Still… Hermione couldn’t help but hope…_

Maybe she was being silly. Or maybe she wasn’t. All she knew was that Ron was a wonderful human being, and she was unbelievably lucky to have him in her life. She really ought to have made that clear to him when they were teenagers. Too late now. But maybe she could use their newfound closeness to show just how much she adored him. Even if he didn’t see her in the same way, she should show him that she cared, even just as a friend.

Hermione felt herself begin to doze again, the comforting feel of Ron’s arms around her acting as a shield against the nightmares plaguing her mind. Ron’s form was warm, and soft, and so thoroughly… _alive_. Her connection -not only to the world- but also to herself. How pathetic was that? But by this point, Hermione could not care less.

_‘I’ve got you, ‘Mione… no matter what… whenever you need me…’_

Hermione fought back a sob. It was so unfair; why did he have to be so… _perfect?_

The universe was basically dangling Ron in front of her, taunting “ _he’s lovely, isn’t he? You like him, don’t you? Shame you’ll never be with him… not in the way you want, anyway…_ ”.

It just wasn’t fair.

Feeling melancholic, Hermione slowly felt herself lose consciousness. Her sleep was without nightmares, but instead was filled with a deep sense of sadness.

A sadness that was only partially mitigated by the strong, wonderful arms of the man she loved, as he gently rocked her to a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Unconsciousness gradually lost its hold on Hermione, and she felt herself begin to wake. Ron still had his arms around her, but –during the night- they had somehow ended up facing towards the same way. People referred to is as “spooning”, apparently. The redhead’s arms were now encircling Hermione’s stomach, causing butterflies to explode as she became aware of the hands now gently squeezing her midriff.

Hermione felt a bit peculiar. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it.

It was almost as if _something was pushing into her_ -

Oh.

Hermione felt her face burn as her heartrate rapidly increased.

_Ron_ was pushing into her.

Or rather, _a certain part_ of Ron’s anatomy was now firmly pushing into her backside. A part of Ron that Hermione had taken extraordinary efforts throughout the past decade _never_ to think about; for fear of losing her sanity completely.

A part of Ron that was now _far more awake_ than the rest of him.

A shiver went down Hermione’s spine.

_Calm down_ -she told herself- _it doesn’t mean anything… it’s just a physiological effect of blood circulation… lots of men have this in the morning…_

It wasn’t a big deal. Well, actually, it _was_ rather big-

Shut up! Don’t even think about _that_!

Oh god; how dare she even _think_ about Ron in that way? He was her best friend! She shouldn’t be objectifying him in that way when it was simply a case of blood circulation-

‘ _‘Mione…_ ’

Ron’s voice was husky as he murmured her name, so close to her ear that he sent goose-bumps up her neck.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. What sort of dream was he having that could cause him to say her name like _that_? That wasn’t the sort of voice you used when dreaming about completely-platonic friends. That was a voice people used in… well, definitely not family-friendly dreams, that was for sure. Even someone as bad at social cues as Hermione couldn’t misinterpret _that_.

 

That wasn’t a normal voice, surely. It was so mature. So intense. So… well, _sexy_.

Hermione’s already-flushed face burned with mortification. _Sexy?_ _How hopeless was she?_ A woman in her early twenties, and here she was acting like a young adolescent who had just discovered what boys were.

This was… _Ron_ , after all. No matter how attractive he was, she shouldn’t be objectifying him like that. He wasn’t some inanimate sex object; he was her best friend, and the man she loved. And besides; he was just dreaming. He wasn’t professing his undying love for her, after all; people dreamt about weird things all the time. Even about people they wouldn’t ever normally have those sorts of dreams about. That was what this was; Ron’s brain was just processing the fact that he and Hermione were pretending to be a couple. After all, why else would he say her name in that way?

The worst thing was; she was _enjoying_ this. She was actually getting a perverted thrill out of… _feeling_ her best friend in this way.

Ron’s arms tightened slightly, pulling Hermione even closer to him. And -as Ron’s… _masculine area_ was pushed harder against her bum- Hermione felt a deep fiery sensation ignite from down below her stomach.

_What on earth?_

The fire burned with a palpable sense of danger. It was fierce, spitting, and seemed to be rapidly growing by the second. A fever? It certainly felt like it. What else could it be? But who ever heard of a fever appearing down there of all places? And it… didn’t feel like an illness. In fact, it actually felt rather… enjoyable. How was that possible?

Hermione’s breathing became heavy and hitched. Her eyes blinked open, all tiredness banished.  

She was now acutely aware of every inch of her skin that was _touching_ Ron in some way. The feel of his arms around her, the impression of his chest against her back, the tingling sensations where his legs laid against hers, and (as much as she tried to ignore it) the feel of Ron’s…

_Stop it!_ She told herself, angrily. _You need to pull away, now! He’s asleep, he won’t notice! For goodness’ sake, stop getting a perverted thrill out of this, and make a decision!_

Hermione didn’t move. Not an inch.

Well, not _away_ from Ron, anyway.

Yes, she had apparently surrendered the last vestiges of her pride, and had promptly pushed her bum even closer against Ron’s…. _Ron’s…_

She didn’t think she could finish that sentence. For fear of losing her mental stability entirely. This whole situation felt almost like it couldn’t be real. She was _Hermione Granger_. She was _always_ in control of her hormones; she never acted like this. Never. Never in a million years would she ever have imagined herself engaging in this sort of behaviour.

But when had she ever felt Ron pushed up against her like this before? And when would she ever get the chance again?

She didn’t want to think anymore. She just wanted to _feel_.

Hermione pushed into Ron further, and the fire she was feeling burned stronger still. Her stomach seemed to fizz, and her breath was coming out in short gasps. As if she had just run a great distance. The fire licked at her body, causing her to perspire heavily against her silk pyjamas, the material of which (as Hermione was discovering) offered little much of any barrier against the feel of the body pressing against hers. Of _Ron_ pressing against her arse cheek. _Oh god…_

As if enjoying the sensation, Ron moaned softly in his sleep, and nuzzled into Hermione’s hair. His nose tickled her scalp, sending shivers up her spine. Were Ron’s lips pressed against her? She wasn’t sure; her head seemed to have sprouted several hundred extra nerve endings in the past twenty seconds.    

_‘Mmmm…. ‘Mione….’_

The fire was now a raging inferno, spreading up Hermione’s midriff and across her back. Hermione’s entire body was now sweating, in an attempt to drown the fiery beast in her. But it was no good. The… _whatever it was_ … was rapidly grower stronger. Especially as her mind processed Ron’s words, and the feel of his face scrunched up in her bushy hair.

_Oh, god… just keep calm… it’s not what it sounds like… he’s still half-asleep… he doesn’t know what he’s saying…_

Ron let out a deep growl from his throat. It was primal, intense, and was accompanied by the redhead removing his hands from around her stomach. Hermione let out a shaky breath. Her pyjama top pulled as Ron’s fingers travelled away, to her sides, leaving what felt like a burning trial of Hermione’s perspiration under the thin material.

Her heart beating faster than it had ever beaten before, Hermione felt a small moan escape her lips. Like a betrayal of her innermost thoughts. It was almost silent, but not quite. Almost in answer, a low growl rumbled from Ron’s throat, and his hands arrived at their destination.

As Hermione gasped, Ron’s hands cupped her hips. His fingers seemed to burn through the silk top as he pushed it aside, and a wave of intense pleasure surged through Hermione. Ron’s long fingers squeezed Hermione’s flesh as he clung to her, and -in response- Hermione’s lower body trembled under his touch, consumed by the fire engulfing every fibre of her being. Her chest heaved, her pulse quickened, and her mouth gasped open as her breathing grew erratic.  _Oh,_ _god…_

Hermione felt her body arc as Ron pushed forward into her again, his fingers squeezing her hips. Sparks flew before Hermione’s eyes, and her mouth flew open, unable to remain silent any longer.

‘Oh, god… _Ron!_ ’

Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth, breathing heavily, and (with a sense of dawning horror) felt Ron rouse from his sleep behind her.

‘Huh…’ He murmured, yawning. ‘Wuzzgoin’on?’

Like a person caught in wrongdoing, Hermione pulled away sharply from the scene of the crime. The sudden loss of close physical contact with Ron was jarring, and the fire within her body seemed to rapidly cool. Her chest continued to heave as she took deep, raspy breaths, however, and she struggled to straighten her top, which had ridden up her sides due to Ron’s hands. Her skin was warm to the touch, and positively dripping with perspiration.

However -in her scrambling to pull away- Hermione had accidentally flipped over onto her other side, so that she was facing Ron.  

Her breath caught in her throat.

Ron’s pyjama top had risen slightly, revealing several inches of his stomach (and a couple of those coppery hairs that Hermione felt her eyes irresistibly drawn to). His hair was bed-rumpled, and his muscles seemed to bulge as he now turned over onto his side, supporting his head on his arm. His lower half was mercifully covered by his duvet, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel her eyes fixate briefly on the part of Ron that she had… _had_ …

‘‘Mione… you okay? What’s wrong?’

Hermione’s eyes snapped up to the redhead’s face.

‘Er… y-yes! I’m fine… y-you… you see… well…’

Hermione spluttered into silence, feeling more confused, terrified, hopeful and… excited than she had ever been in her life. Her usually-teeming brain seemed to have turned to mush.

Ron tilted his head to the side, and he leaned forward towards her.

‘Did you have a nightmare again? You sure you’re okay?’

And –his eyes warm and comforting- he reached out and closed his hand gently around hers.

As Ron’s thumb moved in soothing circles on her wrist, Hermione felt the area under her stomach re-ignite with that intense burning sensation. Far stronger than before, and now spreading throughout her entire body. There seemed to be no breath left in her lungs, and every atom of her being seemed to be demanding that she get as close as physically possible to the redheaded man lying in front of her.

And she wanted to. _Boy, did she want to…_

She didn’t want to move an inch away from Ron. It was as if an invisible force was pulling them together, drawing her closer and closer to the Weasley man. She wanted to wrap her hands around his back, press herself to him once again, and never let go. To lose her hands in that gorgeous ginger mane. To press her lips to his in passion. To feel his hands on her once again, unencumbered by pyjamas. To give herself completely to him, and for him to do the same to her.

It was breath-taking. It was exhilarating. It was intoxicating.

It was absolutely terrifying.

 

‘ _I’m… I’m sorry… need to… bathroom…_ ’

Spluttering furiously, Hermione scrambled out of Ron’s bed and ran.

Her hands slipping on the door handle, she stumbled out of Ron’s room, extremely aware of Ron’s confused exclamations. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the redhead’s eyes dart downwards to his own lap, and his ears flush pink.

_No doubt he was disgusted with her for what she’d done to him…_

Her eyes now glistening with tears, Hermione shut Ron’s door behind her, and hurried down the hallway. It was now dawn, and sunlight was tentatively streaming through the windows of the flat.

She wrenched the bathroom door open, and locked herself inside, her hands shaking as she bolted the lock. Hermione stumbled over to the mirror, her legs wobbly from the experiences of the night. She grabbed onto the cool porcelain. Her knuckles straining as she supported herself, Hermione stared at the reflection of herself.

Her face was completely flushed. Her hair was even more messed-up than ever. And she could still hear her heart beating furiously against her chest.

Worst of all, though, was the strong scent of Ron’s duvet that had seemed to have permeated into her pyjamas. She could still half-imagine the sensations of Ron’s body against hers, as the raging inferno continued to lick at her body. Her legs trembled.

_What had she done?_

He was her best friend. And she had done… _that_ to him. Purely for her own perverted thrills. She had broken Ron’s trust, and possibly destroyed their friendship entirely. What person would want to be friends with someone who used them like a rag doll for their own pleasure? Certainly not Ron. She had lost him. Lost the man she loved; all for a few minutes of misguided pleasure. 

_Oh, god…_

Hermione felt her body shake as she began to weep, her throat thick with self-disgust. Her legs gave out, and she slowly sank to the bathroom floor. Tears splashed onto the tiles below her. Her eyes –rapidly growing puffy and red- blurred from the sheer multitude of emotions now coursing through her mind. Self-loathing, misery, excitement and -more than anything else- a deep, burning sense of heartbreak.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave kudos and/or comments! 
> 
> I am planning on publishing the next chapter within the next month-and-a-half, so (if you feel so inclined) subscribe to this fic if you want to be notified whenever it is updated.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following on from the shocking climax (in more than one sense of the word) of the last chapter, we now follow Ron struggling to understand what is going on with Hermione. What happened when they were in bed together? Why is she suddenly so awkward around him? And how will this effect their charade of being engaged?  
> Read on, dear readers, and find out.  
> Word of warning; this chapter deals with mature themes, and allusions to adult situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Non-explicit summation of the previous chapter for those uncomfortable with discussions of adult situations)  
> In the previous chapter, Hermione found herself sleeping in the same bed as Ron, having run to his room after bouts of intense nightmares. After waking up with Ron pressed up against her, Hermione went against her own judgement, and pressed her bum up against Ron's private parts. Ron -apparently having a sexy dream- pushed himself more closely against Hermione. Hermione moaned Ron's name, waking him up. Realising what she had done, Hermione fled -in tears- to the bathroom, terrified that she had ruined their friendship forever. 
> 
> My sincerest apologies for the delayed release of this chapter. Unfortunately -once again- real life got in the way, and (combined with this chapters' length being way longer than previous updates) I had to push back the release until I was satisfied with it. I also grabbled with trying to properly explore the character's feelings about the previous chapter, which hopefully I have succeeded in showcasing properly. With a bit of luck, the next chapter should take less time. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with this update, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

No.

_No, no, no, no!_

Ron put his face in his hands, his mind screaming profanities.

This could _not_ be happening.

He had woken up to find himself cozied up to Hermione, which was nice. But what wasn’t nice was the situation his… morning condition had caused.

Hermione had woken up, felt his… well, (not so) _little Ron_ pushing into her arse. Understandably, she had fled the room, looking appalled and hurt.

_Nice going, Weasley! You’ve blown it!_

Ron cursed his lower organs; why couldn’t they read the mood? What girl would be happy waking up to her friend’s private parts pressed into her bum? Certainly not Hermione, that was for sure.

Hurriedly, Ron climbed out of bed, and made for the door. But his lower half refused to take a hint that maybe this wasn’t the best moment to stay… like _that_. Swearing heavily under his breath as he did so, Ron performed a cooling charm on his groin, which took care of his morning condition. He then pulled on his dressing gown, and hesitantly crept out the door.

His heart broke as he heard the sounds coming from the bathroom down the corridor.

Hermione was crying. Deep, intense crying.

Ron swallowed, and rapped softly on the door.

 ‘Her… Hermione?’

There was a sudden squeak from behind the door, as if someone had clapped their hands over their mouth.  

‘Hermione… are… are you okay?’

There was silence.

‘Hermione?’

‘R-Ron…’ Hermione’s voice trembled over his name. ‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Ron.’

‘What?’ Ron exclaimed, feeling completely bewildered. Why was she sorry? She wasn’t the one who had been using her friend like some sort of sex object, after all!  ‘What do you have to be sorry about?’

‘I’m… I’m so sorry that I… that I did _that_ to you…’

‘What are you on about, ‘Mione? If anything, I’m to blame here. After all, I was the one with the⸺’

‘Please stop talking!’

Hermione’s voice was suddenly very flustered. Which made sense, considering what Ron had been talking about.

Why had he woken up like _that_ anyway? Yes, it wasn’t unusual for him to get morning wood, but still. He wasn’t some hormone-filled teenager anymore; he was a young man who had grown used to the testosterone levels coursing through his body.

Well, apart from when he had certain types of dreams, of course, but that was hardly-

_Oh, merlin…_

Ron felt a dawning sense of horror. He had been dreaming about Hermione. He had had sex dreams about his female best friend. Whilst sleeping in the same bed as her. _Bloody hell, he really was a pervert, wasn’t he?_

Pulling himself together, Ron cleared his throat. Hermione was under the impression that he had simply gotten morning wood, and it was probably best to go along with that version of events.

‘Hermione… we’re… we’re two adults who shared a bed; this sort of thing can happen. I… I don’t think any less of you for it.’

His stomach burned with guilt. He hated lying to Hermione, but this was really the only way he could spare her blushes. She certainly didn’t want to hear that his condition had been caused by a dream about her, especially when they had sharing the same bed.

There was a long pause.

‘I suppose.’

Ron got the sneaking suspicion that Hermione didn’t really believe him.

‘L-listen, Hermione,’ he said, his voice barely masking the pain he was currently feeling. ‘If you don’t want to talk about this, that’s fine. I… I understand if it makes you… feel upset.’

‘T-that sounds like the best option.’ Hermione said, stiffly. ‘T-thank you, Ron.’

‘No… no problem.’

Letting out a long sigh, Ron went to the sink in the kitchen, and splashed water over his face. He imagined that Hermione would probably not want to see him at the moment, and -to be honest- he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her either. The awkwardness would have been too much, not to mention the horrifying possibility that he might see disgust and hurt in her eyes if she looked at him.

Ron’s mental image of Hermione slapping him from the previous day flashed before his eyes, and he shuddered. He didn’t think he could bare it if that happened.

He distantly heard the bathroom door open, but he didn’t turn to look. It was probably best to give Hermione the option not the speak to him if she didn’t feel comfortable doing so.

He heard the sound of pattering feet, and Hermione’s bedroom door closed softly.

Ron sighed; _what was going to happen now?_

 

Checking to make sure the coast was clear; Ron hurried along to his own room, and closed the door softly behind him.

Ron walked over to his desk, sat down, and began to write. He needed to take his mind off things, and sometimes work was the best way to do that. It wasn’t that it was easier to deal with, but that it made him half-forget that Hermione possibly didn’t ever want to speak to him again.

There was a quiet tapping sound, and Ron swung round in his chair to see Hermione hesitantly opening the door to his room.

‘Hey.’

‘H-hello, Ron.’ Hermione said, not quite meeting his eyes. ‘I’m… I’m off to work now.’

‘Oh, okay. Er, listen, Hermione… about last night⸺’

‘I’d rather not talk about that, Ron.’ Hermione interrupted, her bushy hair obscuring her face. ‘I’m going to be late home today, so don’t worry if I’m not back before you turn in for the night.’

‘Oh.’ Ron said, his stomach feeling surprisingly numb. ‘Well, thanks for the heads-up.’

‘Bye, Ron.’

Hermione hurriedly closed the door.

Ron put his head in his hands and groaned. This was bad. This was very bad. She could barely stand to be in the same room as him.

Now wishing he’d stayed wide awake the whole of the previous night, Ron turned back to his desk. The manuscript for the next edition of “Martin Miggs” wasn’t going to write itself, after all.

~~~~~

 

A few hours later, Ron leant back in his seat and sighed, rubbing the writing calluses on the fingers of his right hand. Who would have ever thought that Ron Weasley -the boy who hated writing any kind of schoolwork- would end working as a comic book writer? The irony was not lost on him.

After making himself a sandwich, he changed into his uniform, and headed out to his other job.

Well, it wasn’t really a job. Working part-time at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes was more to help out George, as opposed to anything else. It wasn’t like he was getting paid for it, either, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His wages from the comics’ publisher were very decent.

And -Ron supposed- at least working at the shop got him out of the house. 

 

WWW was -as was usual nowadays- packed with people. The shop was fit to bursting point with excited customers, all of them clambering around the various displays and shelves.

Ron pushed his way through the crowds, and opened the door to the staff room.

‘Alright, Ron?’

George was sat at the table, eating a sandwich.

‘Yeah; you?’

‘Not too bad. But -then again- I’m not the one who’s engaged all of a sudden.’

Ron’s ears burned.

‘Shut it, George; I’m not in the mood.’

‘Why’s Ron not in the mood?’

At that moment, Angelina emerged from the shop floor, carrying a stack of boxes containing skiving snackboxes.

‘No idea,’ George grinned, before winking at his younger brother. ‘Hermione been tiring you out behind closed doors, eh?’

‘Shut it,’ Ron repeated. ‘You don’t know a thing.’  

‘Oh, come off it, little bro,’ George said, throwing Ron a knowing look. ‘Hermione’s fancied you for years, after all.’

‘George, stop teasing him!’ Angelina chided, slapping her husband softly on the arm. ‘Are you sure you’re alright, Ron?’

‘Y-yeah, fine.’

Ron pulled on his apron, and went out onto the bustling shop floor.

 

Still, Ron thought (as he unloaded a box of fake wands onto a display case), Hermione did seem very happy about being near him, as of late. And she was the one who suggesting the “practicing” thing. That had to count for something.

So why was she seemingly so upset about what had happened the previous night?

‘Ron, you okay? You’re spacing out a little, there.’

Angelina was patting him on the shoulder, looking concerned. The two of them were stood in the stock room for the shop.

‘Yeah, sorry, just… tired.’ Then a thought struck Ron. ‘Um… Angelina… has Hermione ever seemed… well, insecure to you?’

A knowing look came into Angelina’s eyes.

‘What have you done? Did you forget she was a girl again?’

‘I haven’t done anything!’ Ron exclaimed, feeling rather offended. ‘And I’ve always seen Hermione as a girl- woman, rather. I’m not that awkward kid at the Yule Ball anymore, Angie!’

Angelina chuckled.

‘I know, Ron. Sorry; I’ve been hanging around George too much.’

‘Well, you did marry him.’

‘True.’

‘So what’s wrong with Hermione?’ Ron asked again. ‘Please, Angie; I’m… worried about her.’

Angelina smiled.

‘Ron, you’ve always been worried about Hermione. And I know that you see her as a woman, right?’

‘Course.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione didn’t see herself as a woman. I mean, she isn’t exactly turning mens heads when she walks past, does she?’

Ron frowned.

‘Dunno why. ‘Mione’s gorgeous.’

‘Have you told _her_ that, Ron?’

Ron felt his ears turn red again.

‘Y-yeah. Last night.’

Angelina’s smile instantly became a lot warmer. She looked delighted at this news.

‘I don’t pretend to know Hermione as well as you do, Ron. But I can imagine that she’s probably confused as to _why_ you think she’s gorgeous.’

‘W-wait,’ Ron stammered, his eyes widening in terror. ‘D-do you think that she realises that I⸺’

Angelina shook her head.

‘Unlikely. Hermione is one of the most oblivious people I know, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But… well, I think she’s probably flattered that you see her in that way. Even if she can’t work out _why_ you would see her like that.’

Ron nodded, his mind working as he processed this.

It had been really naive to assume he himself was the only person he knew with insecurities. Hermione had them as well, by the sounds of it.

 

 

As the sunlight gradually lessened and the streets became dark, WWW closed for the night. Ron didn’t mind these afternoon shifts, although it felt a lot later than it actually was, due to the darker evenings that signalled winter was well-and-truly on the way.

He was just grabbing his bag from his locker, when a thump came from the window.

‘Errol!’

The decrepit ancient owl (which was somehow still alive, despite all expectations to the contrary) hopped through the window that Ron had just opened, having bounced off the wrong side of the frame, and promptly displayed his leg to Ron, holding out a letter.

Bollocks.

 

_Dear Ronnie,_

_Congratulations on your engagement! How on earth did you keep that quiet? You really should have mentioned that when that whole arranged marriage thing came up. But that’s understandable; you just wanted some privacy._

_We would like to invite you (and Hermione, of course) to stay the next weekend at the Burrow. It’s been too long since we had a nice family get-together, and (with the news of your engagement) now seems like the perfect time to have everyone over. Don’t worry; there will be more than enough room, since your father has done some renovating recently._

_Congratulations again, Ronnie; you have no idea how happy your father and I are for you!_

_Love,_

_Mum._

_Xxx_

 

Ron felt a guilty lurch in the vicinity of his stomach. He’d completely forgotten that Muriel would have told his parents, but he hated lying to his family. Muriel was one thing, but he had never been comfortable with lying to his mum and dad.

And would Hermione be okay with this? Pretending to be his fiancé in front of people she had known for years?

Wait, did this mean that they would have to “practice” more things-

 _No, no, no!_ Ron chided himself. How dare he even _think_ of it like that? This wasn’t some excuse to get physically close to Hermione!

But they would have to be physically close. They were pretending to be fiancés, after all. They had to make it look convincing.

This would be especially different, considering that Hermione could barely stand to be in the same room with him at the moment.

_Oh, merlin, this week was going to be torture…_

~~~~~~~

 

It was Friday evening. And the week had indeed been torture.

It had simultaneously crawled and rushed by. Hermione had barely spoken to him since Monday morning, and -his heart ached at the implications- she was no longer spending her evenings sat in the living room with him. She had been holed up in her room most of the time, only emerging for meals, during which she seemed unable to look Ron in the eye.

To confuse him even more, she had barely responded when he had mentioned the invitation to the Burrow, simply nodding as if he was discussing the weather.

What did that mean? Ron wondered, as he finished washing up his dinner plate. Was she upset by it? Was she just not bothered either way? This wasn’t like Hermione at all; she had always been a very passionate, emotionally-driven person. For her to be this outwardly-apathetic was downright terrifying. And the cause was him, after all; everything had changed between them since the night they had slept in the same bed. Merlin, Ron just wished it had never happened, why couldn’t he have kept his hormones under control, why couldn’t he have⸺

 

‘Ron!’

Ron turned, to find a certain bespectacled man emerging out of the fireplace, pulling a trunk behind him.

‘Harry!’

Rushing forward, the two men threw their arms around each-other in a tight hug.

‘You’re back, mate!’

‘Well, I did promise, didn’t I?’

Ron pulled back a little, and scrutinised Harry up worryingly.

‘Are you eating alright? You look thinner, if that’s even possible.’

Harry laughed.

‘Like mother, like son! Ron, it’s Hogwarts; they’re hardly going to stave me!’ The bespectacled man grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection for his friend. ‘Besides, as if I’d ever under-eat when you’ve been sending me letters about that _very subject_ for the entire time I’ve been there!’

Ron’s ears went red.

‘I was just worried.’

‘I appreciate it, mate, but I’m honestly fine.’

‘Course you are.’

Ron ruffled Harry’s hair.

‘Hermione’s going to get jealous if you keep doing that.’ Harry cheeked. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you ruffling _her_ hair.’

Ron’s eyes darted around, praying that Hermione hadn’t heard that.

‘Where is she, anyway?’ Harry asked, looking around.

‘Er… well, I’m sure she⸺’

‘Harry!’

Hermione came running into the kitchen, and pulled Harry into a tight hug.

‘Heya, sis!’ Harry grinned, through a mouthful of Hermione’s bushy hair. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, and stop calling me that!’

‘Yeah, like I’m not like a little brother to you.’

‘Emphasis on “little”.’

‘Says the woman who still can’t reach the top shelf in the cupboards.’

Hermione slapped Harry playfully on the arm.

‘I ⸺rather, Ron and I⸺ really missed you! How is Hogwarts?’

‘Same as normal, really. Well, as normal as Hogwarts gets. But what’s been happening here? Molly owled me a couple of days ago, saying that you two had big news to tell me.’

Hermione’s eyes immediately snapped over to Ron, and a slight pink appeared in her cheeks.

‘Er… w-well…’

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks.

‘You see, mate,’ Ron began. ‘The thing is…’

~~~~~

 

‘You WHAT?’

‘Harry!’

‘Pretending to be engaged?!’ -Harry’s head flicked between his two best friends- ‘I’m not sure if that plan is genius or _completely_ delusional.’

‘Delusional?’

‘Well, you two don’t exactly behave naturally like a couple, what with being just friends and all. Besides, what if you have to… you know… kiss or something⸺’

‘We’ll- we’ll figure that out,’ Hermione stammered, looking rather flustered and avoiding Ron’s eye. ‘We just need to… plan things out.’

‘But⸺’

‘It’s great to have you back, Harry. I’ll see you both later.’

And -with that- Hermione hurriedly left for her room.

Harry turned to Ron, his eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

‘Well, that was… _odd_. Even for Hermione. Is she okay?’

At this point, Ron’s self-control broke. He sat down at the breakfast bar, and began to cry.

‘Ron?’ Harry exclaimed, kneeling down beside him. ‘Mate, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s Hermione… mate,’ Ron sobbed, tears dropping off the end of his long nose. ‘I’ve… I’ve well-and-truly buggered this all up…’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘We… we slept together.’

‘WHAT?!’ Harry exclaimed, his voice an octave higher than normal. ‘You mean… you two finally shagged⸺’

‘No!’ Ron declared fervently, before quickly casting a silencing charm on the kitchen door, so that their voices wouldn’t reach their bushy-haired friend. ‘What do you take me for? I wouldn’t do that to her when she was vulnerable! And what do you mean: “finally”?’

‘Oh, come off it, mate; you two have been barmy for each other since we were teenagers.’

Ron shook his head wearily.

‘Well, if she ever did, she certainly doesn’t now.’

Harry let out an exasperated sigh.

‘Okay… back up a second… what the heck happened? You said she was vulnerable; why?’

His ears burning, Ron recounted the events of the night he had spent with Hermione in his bed, mentioning everything except the dream he had experienced.

‘And then… when I woke up, I was still holding Hermione… “spooning” I think the muggles call it… and… _and_ …’

Ron paused. Harry did consider Hermione a surrogate-sister, after all. Would he really be alright hearing about this?

‘Ron? What happened?’

Ron’s eyes fell to his feet, not daring to look Harry in the eye.

‘Ron… please,’ Harry urged, putting a comforting hand on his knee. ‘Tell me.’

Ron’s shoulder’s sagged.

‘Y-you know that thing that happens to blokes in the morning… w-well, that happened to me, whilst I was holding Hermione close.’

There was a silence.

Oh merlin, Harry was angry with him. Of course he was. Hermione was basically family to Harry. Ron’s eyes flicked upwards hesitantly, waiting for the moment when Harry would punch him or curse him. He deserved both.

But this didn’t happen. Instead, Harry was biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing.

‘Is… is that it?’ Harry snorted, his shoulders trembling with repressed mirth. ‘Are you seriously telling me that things are _this awkward_ between you two because you got a hard-on lying next to her?’

‘W-w-well, yes!’ Ron spluttered. Why was Harry finding humour in this; shouldn’t he be cursing Ron into oblivion by now? ‘She’s clearly uncomfortable with the idea of her best friend being like that and ⸺stop laughing, Harry!’

Harry rolled his eyes, still chuckling, and sat down besides Ron, clapping him on the shoulder supportively.

Then, a thought seemed to occur to him, and he frowned.

‘Hang on a second; you said that Hermione has been avoiding you every since, right?’

Ron nodded, miserably.

‘So, you think that she⸺’

‘She’d barely spoken to me since, Harry.’ He mumbled, his face in his hands. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she doesn’t want me anyway near her.’

Ron waited for Harry to console him, but instead the bespectacled boy shook his head in exasperation.

‘Ron, you’re completely getting the wrong idea. Hermione isn’t disgusted with you, she’s embarrassed!’

‘She’s both! She woke up to her best friend’s… _man parts_ poking into her!’ Ron groaned, feeling disgusted with himself as he said the words aloud. ‘She’s horrified by it!’

Harry shook his head again.

‘No, Ron; you really don’t get it. She’s embarrassed because your relationship took on a sexual dimension, and she doesn’t know to respond to that!’

Ron spluttered into his hands.

‘S-sexual dimension?’ He stammered, feeling his face burn and his mind race. ‘What do you-?’

‘You know what Hermione’s like,’ Harry explained, in an infuriatingly-calm tone. ‘She likes to over-analyse everything. Your friendship with her has clearly changed, and she just doesn’t have the mental framework to work this out yet. But she will. And so will you.’

There was a pause as Ron considered Harry’s words.

‘This teaching lark has gone to your head, mate.’

Harry chuckled.

‘It’s my job, Ron. But trust me; you and Hermione can overcome this. You’ve had problems in the past, and you’ve always come right back together again.’

~~~~~~

 

Harry did not stick around for long. He was taking Ginny to a restaurant in central London, and would apparently be back late, if at all. Ron didn’t really want to think about what that meant. But he would have liked to have had someone-else around the flat; it would have at least taken his mind off Hermione’s noticeable absence. .

She had not joined Ron for dinner, instead preferring to eat in her room. Which only managed to lower Ron’s mood even more. Even if what Harry said was true, how were they supposed to work through this if she could barely stand to be around him? And how on earth were they supposed to pretend to be a couple over the weekend at the Burrow when she could barely look him the eye?

Miserably, Ron had sat down in front of the television. Usually, he would have probably watched an action film, but he wasn’t really feeling like it. Instead, he turned on a romantic comedy.

‘Er… R-Ron?’

Ron’s head darted so quickly that he clicked his neck. Hermione was standing in the entrance to the corridor, wearing the silk pyjamas for which he had long nursed a soft spot. Her bushy hair was tied up in an unkempt bunch at the back of her head, showing her neck and ears in a way that Ron rarely saw.

‘O-oh, h-hi Hermione.’

Hermione bit down on her lip, as if carefully steadying her nerve.

‘Can… can I sit with you?’

‘Y-yeah, sure!’

The sofa dipped as Hermione sat down next to Ron.

_Was this happening? What was going on?_

Ron struggled to remain calm. But it was very difficult. This was the closest Hermione had been to him in days, and the sudden increase in proximity was jarring (although Ron wasn’t complaining). 

Hermione edged slightly closer to him. She wasn’t as close as she had been the last time they had sat here together, but she was still close enough to send shivers up Ron’s spine.

Ron’s heartbeat rapidly increased. _Oh, merlin, please don’t make me mess this up…_

Hermione’s eyes hesitantly flicked up to Ron’s. Every line of her face was wreathed in anguish.

Ron’s stomach seemed to turn to lead, but -before he could begin to apologise- Hermione spoke.  

‘Ron… I’m… I’m so sorry for being so withdrawn this week. I just… I was so embarrassed.’

There was a short silence as Ron processed this.

‘That’s… that’s fine.’

‘R-really?’ Hermione stammered, looking confused. ‘But I’ve been icing you out for several days! How is that fine with you?’

‘It’s…it’s not. I… I missed you, Hermione. But I can understand why you’d want to not speak to me again, after what I was like⸺’

‘No! I… I just thought you were uncomfortable about the whole thing.’

‘Uncomfortable? Course not. I… I thought _you_ were.’

Hermione shook her head.

‘I was just embarrassed, Ron.’

‘Oh… I…wait; _just_ embarrassed? So…you’re … you’re not uncomfortable about it?’

Hermione shook her head again.

‘That’s… that’s good. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, Hermione.’

‘I’m not.’ Hermione said, her brow furrowed. She seemed to be working up to saying something. Like she was afraid of what the effect might be. ‘Ron… I know it probably seems a bit weird but… well, I…I _missed_ being close to you. Can we…?’

She trailed off, biting down on her bottom lip nervously.

_Come on, Weasley, use that Gryffindor courage…_

Ron put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. She started, and he immediately froze.

‘S-sorry. Too… too much?’

‘N-no…’ Hermione stammered. ‘It’s… it’s fine.’

Judging from the smile that was now spreading across Hermione’s face, it was more than fine.

Ron’s heart began to beat quickly against his chest. She didn’t hate it. In fact, she actually liked it! Maybe… maybe she wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of seeing him as a man? And –adding on from that- it might even be possible that she wasn’t grossed out by what had occurred the last time they had been this close.

Her shoulders were soft and warm under his arm, and her muscles seem to relax, as if all tension had left her. Was… was he having that effect on her?

‘Wait… Ron…’ –Hermione pulled away from him, looking nervous again. Ron’s heart immediately went into his mouth. Oh, no; he’d done something wrong again. _Had he misinterpreted her reaction?_ ‘There’s… there’s something I need to speak to you about. About what happened that night.’

‘Oh… okay. Did… did I do something in my sleep? Merlin, Hermione, I’m so sorry⸺’

‘No!’ Hermione exclaimed, shaking her hands earnestly. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Ron! It was me! I… I…’

Hermione’s warm-bronze cheeks glowed slightly, and she looked shyly down at her lap. Her lips trembled, and she whispered as she spoke.

‘I… I was… pressed up against you. I… I pushed myself into you… against your… private parts…’

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ron could feel his entire face blushing maroon as the impact of this momentous confession washed over him. Bloody hell, she had really been… doing _that_? With _him_?

It was like an adolescent fantasy had been made flesh. Hermione Granger, pressing herself up against him. Grinding on him. The feel of her soft flesh against him, and her intoxicating scent filling his nostrils. Merlin, what a thought.

And Hermione had actually done that. Had she… wanted him? In that way? Was it possible that she might have been… excited by the thought of being with him in a very intimate way? Surely that wasn’t possible. Ron couldn’t be that lucky.

But all signs pointed to that being the case.

 _Wait; why didn’t he remember that?_ He’d been dreaming about a situation like that since he was a randy little teenager, and he’d slept through it when it had actually happened?!

_Priorities, Weasley, priorities…_

Ron shook those thoughts out of his mind. That wasn’t right of him to do that. Hermione wasn’t a piece of meat; she was his friend, and the woman he loved.

‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Ron.’ Hermione mumbled, sounding close to tears.  

Ron’s attention snapped back to her, and he was horrified to see the look of self-loathing and despair on her face.

‘I know that was wrong of me, and I… I can never forgive myself for it. I’m… s-so s-s-sorry. I… I c-c-completely understand if you don’t w-w-want to be around me anymore…’

Tears were now streaming down her face, and her lower lip was quivering dangerously.

‘Hermione⸺’

‘I-I should go to my room. You p-p-probably don’t want to be anywhere near me⸺’

‘‘Mione, wait!’-Without thinking, Ron jumped to his feet and grabbed Hermione’s arm as she stood up- ‘I’ve barely seen you over the past week, and it’s been bloody miserable! I miss you, ‘Mione! Don’t go!’

Hermione’s eyes widened as she stared at him.

‘Y-you… you don’t find it gross that I t-t-treated you like a sex object?’

Ron could feel his ears turn pink.

‘W-well, I’m not gonna lie; the idea does… surprise me a little,’ he mumbled, trying to disguise the fizzing in his gut that had resulted from Hermione’s words. ‘But… you’re my best friend, ‘Mione, and I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.’

Hermione’s lower lip gave one last enormous tremble, and she began to shake as sobs wracked her body.

‘What? Oh merlin, did I say something wrong?’ Ron said, feeling his stomach turn to lead again. He’d upset her again! ‘I’m sorry, ‘Mione, I didn’t mean to⸺’

But his words died in his throat, as Hermione threw her arms around him, and began to sob unrestrainedly into his chest.

‘‘M-Mione?’

‘ _I… I t-t-thought I’d lost you._ ’ Hermione sobbed into his top, her tears staining the material. ‘I…I was terrified you w-w-wouldn’t want me around after I confessed what I d-d-did to you, Ron. I’m….I’m so sorry, Ron.’

‘H-hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ Ron soothed, tentatively rubbing her back with the palm of his hand. ‘I told you I didn’t think any less of you for it.’

‘ _T-thought you were j-just saying that to s-s-spare my feelings…_ ’

‘C’mon, would I really do that?’

‘O-of course you would! You’re too lovely and wonderful, Ron!’

_Bloody hell…_

Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione, cradling her to him. His heart felt like it was going to explode. Hermione was really _this upset_ over the thought that he wouldn’t want her around _? How was that even possible?_ He was just plain ordinary Ron Weasley, after all.

But –as Hermione continued to cling to him and her words continued to wash through his mind- Ron didn’t feel quite so ordinary as he had always believed himself to be. Maybe he wasn’t some action hero, but he seemed to matter so much to Hermione. And –honestly- Ron didn’t have any problems with that.

Eventually, Hermione’s sobbing subsided, and she pulled away from his chest, wiping her eyes.

‘S-sorry, Ron, I completely lost my head there.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said, helping her sit down on the sofa. ‘I’m here for you. You know that, right?’

As Hermione wiped the back of her hands on her pyjama top, Ron’s memory seemed to stir.

_Wait…_

Ron’s memories of the morning seemed to rapidly coalesce, forming a mental image of what he had woken up to that morning.

His hands had been on her hips when he had woken up! He had been gripping her hips, her pyjama top pushed out of the way! The feel of her beautiful skin under his fingers, and the way her flesh was warm and covered in sweat-

‘Oh merlin,’ Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening in horror at what he had done. ‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Hermione. I had my hands on you! Oh merlin, I was such a perv- I should be the one apologising…’

But Hermione didn’t get angry at Ron, or refuse to accept his apology. In fact, she looked away, a shy smile on her face.

‘I… I didn’t mind.’

There was a billowing silence.

Ron’s mouth fell open. _What?_ Had he misheard her? Had she knocked him out with a hex, and he was currently dreaming this?  

She hadn’t minded. Why?

‘R-Ron?’

‘Y-yes?’ Ron squeaked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

‘H-hold me, please…’

‘W-what? You don’t mean like I did when I was asleep⸺’

‘N-no!’ Hermione’s cheeks glowed again, and flusteredness had crept into her voice. ‘N-nothing like that! I mean… just… I missed being close to you.’

She missed him. She actually missed him.

A meteorite could have landed next to him, and Ron wouldn’t have noticed. Hermione Granger missed being physically close with him. Nothing else seemed to matter.

‘What… what would you like to me to do?’

‘Just… hold me… like the last time we were sat here together.’

Ron opened his arms invitingly, and Hermione leaned into him, pulling her legs up underneath her body as she did so. She looked so cute when she did that. It was rare to see her this unguarded, and Ron felt very honoured that she could be like that around him, especially considering all that had happened between them over the past week.

Swallowing nervously, Ron put his arm around her shoulders, happy shivers going up his spine as he registered the renewed physical contact between them. Merlin, he had missed this.

‘What are you watching, anyway?’

‘Er… just one of those muggle romantic comedies.’

‘Any good?’

‘Y-yeah, I kind-of like these films.’

Hermione snuggled closer into his side.

‘So do I.’

‘G-good. It’s nice how- _oh, merlin…_ ’

On the television, the two main characters in the film were now locked in a close embrace, their lips pressed tenderly against each-other. Their hands were entangled in each-others hair, and every so often they moaned against the other’s lips. They were evidently snogging, and quite passionately at that.  

Ron didn’t think it was possible for him to be more embarrassed than he already was, but that was a false assumption to make. His face was practically burning.

However, his eyes –in direct rebellion against all self-preserving thoughts- flicked towards Hermione.

She was sat somewhat rigidly, her hands absentmindedly playing with a stray stand of her silk pyjamas. Her warm-bronze cheeks were dimpled as she pursed her lips. She was staring resolutely at the screen, and as she stared at the couple kissing on the television –Ron couldn’t misunderstand this no matter how he tried- Hermione’s eyes were filled with a soft longing.

Ron swallowed. Before he had a chance to doubt himself, he opened his mouth, and spoke.

‘Er… listen, Hermione… during Christmas at the Burrow, people are probably going to expect us to… you know… do _that._ ’

He pointed at the television.

‘O-oh, right…’

Hermione’s voice quavered slightly as she spoke.

‘W-well, not full on like that, of course,’ Ron continued, babbling. ‘But they will probably expect us to… k-kiss.’

Hermione didn’t answer, and Ron’s mind went into panic.

‘Merlin, ‘Mione, I… I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry! I… I wouldn’t ever want to you to feel like I’m forcing it on you⸺’

‘You mean you would be fine kissing me?’

Hermione’s voice was clear, the quaver gone. Her eyes were wide, and open. Did… did she look _happy?_

‘Of… of course I’d be happy to.’ Ron replied; enable to look away from her face, marvelling at the almost hopeful look she was giving him. ‘You’re one of the closest people in my life, ‘Mione. We’re best friends, and… w-well, you already know that I think you’re gorgeous.’

Hermione’s eyes seemed to glitter slightly, but maybe Ron was just seeing the remnants of tears. She bit down softly on her lower lip again, looking slightly flustered. _Great_ , -Ron thought- _she chooses this moment of all moments to look as adorable as possible._

‘That sounds fine to me. I mean…’ ⸺ Hermione gave a cough, almost sounding business-like as she did so, as if they were simply negotiating a works contract at her office in the ministry⸺ ‘Like you say, we are very close, and we trust each other. And it is to allay your aunt’s suspicions, after all. We… we _should_ practice first beforehand… just to make sure it’s convincing, of course.’

‘Yeah… of course.’

Ron’s heart was now beating so frantically against his chest that he was sure Hermione could hear it. They were really doing this. They were going to kiss. The thing he had been dreaming about since the age of thirteen was going to happen. Yes, it was just for practice, but he wasn’t going to complain. He might never get an opportunity like this again. And it wasn’t as if he was forcing Hermione to do this, after all; she was clearly happy to do it. _Very happy_ to do it, by the look on her face.  

The two of them altered their sitting positions, so that they were facing each-other, and slowly leaned forwards.

‘You’re… you’re absolutely sure you’re fine with this, ‘Mione?’

‘Definitely, Ron.’ Hermione said, shyly smiling at him. ‘I’m sure.’

‘We can stop immediately if you feel uncomfortable.’

‘Okay. But I’m sure that won’t be necessary.’

Wait, what? What did she mean by that?

Ron didn’t have time to think about the implications of this bombshell, because -at that moment- Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut, and she pursed her lips. Her face was barely an inch from his, now, and Ron was very much aware that he had never been quite as close to her as this before.  

Ron swallowed, before closing the gap between them, pressing his lips tentatively to hers.

It was a chaste kiss, but tender and sweet. The sort of kiss that made your heart palpate, and your body relax. Hermione’s lips were soft against his, and he could hear her breath as she inhaled and exhaled.

Ron had been dreaming about kissing Hermione ever since he was a teenager, and -honestly- he didn’t think it could have imagined it going much better than this. It was simple. Nothing fancy. But he was kissing Hermione Granger, and he didn’t much care that it wasn’t passionate or intense. They were only practicing, after all.

Ron pulled away slightly, and Hermione’s eyes opened.

‘I’m sorry, are you sure⸺’

Hermione pressed her lips hungrily to his again before he could finish.

This… didn’t feel chaste anymore. Hermione’s lips hungrily clung to Ron’s, and he could hear the sound of her heavy breathing as she pressed herself closer to him. This wasn’t an innocent kiss, by any stretch of the imagination. There was passion and intensity there, in a way that wasn’t before.  

As they deepened the kiss, Ron angled his head to the side, and Hermione did the same. Her lips were soft and pillowy, delicate but firm. Their limbs became entangled as their arms wrapped around each-other, and Hermione began to run her hands through Ron’s hair, pulling herself even closer to him as she did so. Ron’s altered his balance. His back hit the back of the sofa, pulling Hermione into his seating position. As they both fell backwards against the sofa, Hermione seemed to have ended up sat in Ron’s lap. Her body now squirming on top of his, Ron’s pyjama bottoms became a lot tighter than they had been previously.

Hermione let out a soft moan, and Ron felt his stomach fizz with arousal. Bloody hell, this was intense. Who knew Hermione could make a voice like that? And when kissing _him_ , no less!

He wanted to make her moan like that more. _Much more._

Ron briefly pulled away from Hermione’s lips, and suckled softly on her bottom lip.

It was something he had been told by Bill during the older Weasleys stag do. Ron had absolutely no idea why that particular piece of advice had sprung into the foreground of his memory; maybe he had wondered whether he’d ever get to try it out on Hermione’s lips. Regardless, he was doing it now.

And it was clearly having an effect. Hermione’s legs trembled, and Ron could hear her breathing grow heavier and breathier as he continued.

_‘Ron…’_

Hermione had just moaned his name. Merlin, he could have died happy in that moment. That was, if he didn’t die of blood loss before that. He was now so turned on that he was honestly surprised he could still think straight.

Hungrily, Ron ran his lips over Hermione’s, his tongue lightly stroking the inside of her mouth as he did so. She gave another moan, and shifted in Ron’s lap, causing the two of them to push yet more closely against each other.

Acting apparently on its own accord, Ron’s hand travelled slowly up Hermione’s back -skimming the delicate silk of her top, as well as the perspiration covering the soft skin of the back of her neck- and towards the tie that held her bushy hair in place. Ron pulled, and the tie snapped as Hermione’s immense hair cascaded out of its tight bun.

His freckled hands flew into the mass of her hair, becoming lost in the gorgeous tangles. Ron had always loved Hermione’s hair, but he had never done this before; as much as the thought made him like a complete pervert, he had dreamed many an adolescent fantasy involving her bushy locks. The shimmering feel as it brushed against his fingers and tangled around his hands was indescribable; goosebumps erupted along his arms, and delighted shivers shot up his back.

Hermione’s hands clasped the back of Ron’s top, clinging herself to him, and Ron was suddenly aware of two _very particular_ feminine places pressing against his chest.

_Merlin’s beard…_

Ron’s pyjama bottoms had –by now- grown so tight that he was worried he was going to burst out of them. Which -knowing his bad luck- didn’t seem that unusual a possibility. Hermione shifted her weight, and Ron felt the full weight of her buttocks pressing down onto his lap. Unlike last time, however, he wasn’t asleep, and the sudden shock of Hermione’s soft flesh pushing down into his lap was too much to bear.

Ron couldn’t stop himself. He moaned against Hermione’s lips.

Hermione let out a little giggle, and Ron half-opened his eyes. Hermione’s eyes were shut, but the corners of her mouth were turned up into a wide grin as her lips continued to slide tenderly over Ron’s.

She was clearly enjoying herself.

She was enjoying this.

She was enjoying being with him in this way.

Ron felt a surge of passion, and he pressed against Hermione with a force that he hadn’t before. Momentarily stunned, Hermione seemed to melt slightly in Ron’s arms, and her lips parted, omitting a deep husky breath.

The feeling of her bushy hair in his hands, Ron pushed his body more firmly up against her. He could now feel Hermione’s heartbeat beating frantically through her chest, synchronised to his own so much that he couldn’t be sure whose was whose. Moving his hand slightly Ron cupped Hermione’s cheek, stroking it tenderly in a way he had dreamed of doing since he was a teenager.

Ron’s other hand now began to move down Hermione’s back, the silk clinging to the perspiration under the thin material. He felt Hermione tremble slightly under his touch, and there was a growing voice in his head that demanded that he continue touching her as much as possible. If she was enjoying being with him in this way already, then surely she had to see him as a man. And if she did see him as a man -a voice inside his head argued- then who was he to deny her the pleasures that his touch seemed to give her?

 _No!_ Ron told himself.  _This is only practice! I won’t let my hormones ruin our friendship! Hermione wanted to practice kissing, and that’s all I’m going to do!_

Summoning the last vestiges of his self-control, Ron stopped his hand on Hermione’s hip, adamantly refusing to go any lower, for fearing of losing his head completely and grabbing her arse.

This was where his hand had been when he had woken up next to her that morning, and now he wished he had been fully conscious. Because the reaction from Hermione was something he would never forget. As his fingers cupped her hip, her skin - now dripping in sweat- quivered under his touch. Hermione moaned against his lips again, and her lower body trembled in his lap. Almost imperceptibly, she began to move her hips in a rhythmic motion, her pelvis pushing downwards and forwards, towards Ron’s lap and his torso. His stomach now positively fizzing with arousal, Ron felt his lower half begin to throb, straining against the thin fabric of his pyjama bottoms.

That was the moment when Ron knew they would have to stop. If they continued along this road, who knew what would happen?

They were only practicing.

It was amazing, wonderful, _mind-numbingly pleasurable_ practice, but it was not the real thing. Ron wasn’t Hermione’s fiancé, and he could not do that to her. She’d been embarrassed enough with what had happened the last time they had been so close.

He could never forgive himself if he ruined this between them by going too far.

Reluctantly, Ron slowly removed his lips from Hermione’s (savouring the taste as if he would never experience it again), and the two of them pulled apart, breathless and panting. Hermione’s hair was now a glorious mess, stray strands of curls sticking out in all directions like a halo. Ron’s lips felt decidedly tender.

He could still feel his… (not so) little Ron throbbing as Hermione straddled his lap. Hermione could clearly feel it too, but she didn’t seem to care. Her chest was still pressed up against his own -with only the thin materials of their pyjamas separating them- and her face was barely an inch away. Ron could see every eyelash, every freckle, every drop of perspiration on Hermione’s face. Bloody hell, she was gorgeous. He had always known this, but now -closer to her than ever before- he felt his breath hitch as he stared at the woman sat in his lap.

Hermione was staring at him in a way that she had never really done before. Her eyes were wide and expressive, all subterfuge gone, and seemed to be filled with… no, that wasn’t possible. It almost looked like… well, definitely not the way someone looked at a friend.

_‘Ron…’_

_‘‘Mione…’_

Their voices were husky and deep, trembling slightly over the others name. Hermione opened her mouth again, her lips quivering as she began to speak.

‘Ron… I… _I⸺_ ’

‘MATES, I’M BACK!’

Ron and Hermione immediately pulled away from each-other, their eyes wide, darting towards the sounds of Harry’s movements as he closed the front door. Ron felt Hermione’s muscles tense under his touch. Harry’s footsteps grew louder. Hermione scrambled off of Ron’s lap (the sudden loss of contact feeling like a bucket of cold water to him), and hastily straightened her pyjamas, which had become bundled up in some _truly spectacular_ ways (Ron’s brain automatically sealing the images despite the protests of his moral conscience).

Oh merlin, he had gone too far.

What the heck was he thinking; “practicing kissing”? This was why he never made suggestions like this! He’d clearly gone over the line, and lost his head entirely! Hermione might have enjoyed it during the moment, but how would she feel now that reality (personified by the sudden appearance of their mutual best friend) had re-entered the picture. Would she become distant from him again? Would she not want to continue this charade? And it was looking so promising too; after she had cuddled up next to him on the sofa barely a few minutes ago (it felt like an eternity away)

Ron wanted to scream. At the stupid universe, at Harry’s interruption, at his own painfully obvious arousal, at his sheer _disappointment_ of this entire situation, and his ludicrous hopes. But he didn’t, because at that moment he caught the expression on Hermione’s face.

She was smiling.

Her cheeks were dimpled again, and the most shy, sweet, happy smile was formed on her mouth. Her eyes were twinkling as she gazed at Ron, and every feature of her face was the picture of radiance.

She looked (dare Ron even think it?)… _hopeful_.

‘G-goodnight, Ron,’ Hermione stammered, grinning. ‘Sweet dreams.’  

Her eyes filled with what looked strangely like sauciness, Hermione turned softly on her heel and walked out of the sitting room, towards her bedroom.

‘Mate, you alright?’

Harry had appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled from what had clearly been an enjoyable date with Ginny. But Ron found his usual elder-brotherly protectiveness surprisingly lacking at the moment.

‘Ron, you sure you’re alright?’

Ron felt a wide smile stretch across his lips.

‘Yeah. Better than alright, actually.’

Maybe –just maybe- things were finally looking up.

~~~~~~~

The next morning, Ron woke up early. It had taken him a while to get to sleep, his mind still processing the events that had happened the previous evening. He couldn’t stop remembering the feeling of Hermione pressed up against him, the feeling of kissing her, and (most of all) the smile she had given him before she turned in for the night.

She had clearly enjoyed what they had done. What… what did that mean? Was that really possible? Whatever it was, the awkwardness between them had vanished. Maybe this weekend pretending to be fiancés was going to go alright after all. Ron hoped so.

But… bloody hell, he had kissed Hermione! How amazing was that?! He -Ron Weasley- had kissed Hermione Granger! The woman he’d been in love with for over a decade! Sure, it was only practicing, but he could have died happy nonetheless! The feel of her lips on his, and the way she had clung herself to him! That was bloody brilliant! Who knew Hermione had it in her? And the fact she had wanted to do that with _him_?! Him; the gangly ginger with freckles! But -with the way she was looking at him- Ron felt several feet taller.

Hermione had kissed him.

Those four words continued to swirl through his mind. It sounded so wonderful.

Ron grinned widely. He was never going to forget that. It was too perfect, too wonderful. Even Harry’s interruption hadn’t dented it.

Speaking of which, what had Hermione been going to say?

Ron’s brain fizzed with the possibilities. No. Surely not. Just because she had up for kissing him, that didn’t mean that she fancied him, let alone… _loved_ him. He couldn’t get his hopes that far up. Regardless of what she had been saying, she had clearly enjoyed herself. And that was something Ron was very happy about.

He was just washing up his cereal bowl in the sink, when he was pulled out of his thoughts.

‘Good morning, Ron!’

Hermione’s voice. But -before Ron could turn around to respond- Hermione had linked her arms around his torso, and joining her hands together on his stomach.

Ron felt his ears burn. He was still wearing his pyjamas, and he was suddenly very aware of Hermione’s chest pressing into his back. He could feel her face nuzzling into his back, causing goosebumps to erupt across his skin.

‘‘M-Mione…’ he stammered, dropping his bowl into the soapy water with a loud splash. ‘W-what are you doing?’

There was a small squeal, and Hermione pulled away.

Turning, Ron looked round.

Hermione was still dressed in the silk pyjamas she had worn the previous evening. Her hair was rumbled from sleep, and she looked incredibly cute.

She was also very flustered.

‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Ron…’ She stammered, not quite looking him in the eye. ‘I don’t know what came over me…’

Ron’s heart beat against his chest, and he grinned shyly.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ He said, stepping closer to her. ‘I mean, you… you don’t see my complaining, do you?’

Hermione’s eyes flicked from Ron’s face down to his pyjamas. His t-shirt happened to be a couple of sizes too small, so that the material was stretched tight over his muscles. And he was only wearing a pair of shorts that morning, having changed out of the restrictive bottoms he had worn the previous night.

‘No…’ She said, biting her lower lip and looking rather… well, _saucy_. ‘I suppose not.’

Ron could feel his ears burning again, but he didn’t care.

Hermione had just… eyed him up. Like she was seeing him as a man. An actual man. Not some redheaded overgrown adolescent with all the perviness that came with that age. Hermione Granger was viewing him as a man. 

‘You… you had a good sleep, then?’ he stammered. ‘No nightmares?’

Hermione shook her head, still smiling shyly at him.

‘None. I guess I… found the remedy.’

_Bloody hell…_

Ron’s mind immediately exploded with a cacophony of _incredibly inappropriate_ images, all involving Hermione lying in her bed and experiencing things that could _definitely_ not be described as nightmares.

‘T-that’s good.’ He coughed, feeling his face flush, and turning round to continue washing his bowl. ‘G-guess you won’t need me sleeping next to you anymore, then.’

‘Well, I don’t know about _that_ …’ -Hermione’s footsteps came a little closer- ‘I mean, we do seem to… _work well together_ , after all.’

Ron was thankful that he was crouched over the sink, because -at Hermione’s words- his shorts had become decidedly tight once again. A thousand curses on the Weasley virility!

‘G-good.’ He spluttered, refusing to turn round. He could still see Hermione out of the corner of his eye, and he was terrified as to what her reaction would be if she saw his condition.  ‘I-I mean…I… I like working with you, too, ‘Mione.’

‘So do I, Ron. So do I.’

Hermione’s eyes did not leave Ron’s face. Bloody hell, if carried on this way, he was going to snog her right then and there, practicing be damned. Wrestling with these sudden hormone-driven thoughts, Ron heard Hermione’s voice pierce the fog surrounding his brain.

‘I’m going to have a shower now, Ron.’

‘C-cool.’ He stammered, trying to recover his cool. ‘There’s no rush, we don’t have to get to the Burrow until after eleven⸺’

But -at that moment- Ron lost the power of speech, because Hermione stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

His head snapped round to look at her. She was once again smiling shyly up at him.

‘I know. But I want to… make myself look nice. After all, this _is_ my first time meeting your family as your fiancé.’

And with that, Hermione turned on her heel, and walked off to the bathroom, her bushy hair bouncing on her head as she did so.

Ron goggled after her. What was that all about? Was she… could she really be… _flirting_ with him?

Harry’s words from the previous day echoed in his brain.

_“She likes to over-analyse everything. Your friendship with her has clearly changed, and she just doesn’t have the mental framework to work this out yet. But she will.”_

Had Hermione figured out how to process this change? Had that been why she was fine practicing kissing? And why she had started flirting with him? She certainly seemed far more physically comfortable around him, after all. The way she had stared at him… like he wasn’t just a friend to her. Ron swallowed nervously. Was he really that lucky? Was it possible that Hermione might just see him in the same way he saw her? She certainly seemed to be… _interested_ in him in a way that wasn’t just platonic. That look in her eye was not the way she looked at Harry. That was just for Ron.

Hurriedly dried off his bowl, Ron went to his room. Unfortunately for his own self-control, he could clearly hear the sounds of the shower along the corridor as Hermione washed herself. Trying to rid his mind of yet-more inappropriate mental images, Ron pulled out an old edition of ‘Quidditch Monthly’, and sat down on his bed to read.

He definitely needed to take a cold shower this morning. Just for his own sanity. But he found it difficult to complain.

There was a more-than-possible chance that Hermione Granger fancied him.

~~~~~

 

A couple of hours later, Ron was stood in front of the fireplace, through which they would be travelling to the Burrow via floo powder. Since they were only going for a weekend, he had packed light, needing only his backpack.

Harry was sat nearby, reading a copy of “Martin Miggs”.  His own backpack was laid on the seat next to him.

‘Mate, I’m not gonna lie; I still find it weird to see your name credited under “story and dialogue”.’

‘How do you think I feel, Harry?’

‘Bet McGonagall was shocked when she found out.’

‘Ha ha. Not as much as you’d think, actually…’

Ron trailed off. Hermione had just emerged from her room, carrying her beaded bag. She was wearing a pair of jeans, and a maroon jumper.

She looked gorgeous.

‘Sorry I took so long,’ she said, pushing her untameable hair out of her face. ‘I kept wondering whether I should pack a nice skirt for the evening meals and…’

Hermione trailed off as she looked at Ron.

‘Er… what is it, Ron?’

Bloody hell, he’d been staring at her with his mouth hanging half-open! Ron coughed, trying to bring himself back to his senses.

‘N-nothing. Except…’

‘What?’

‘Is… is that my jumper?’

Hermione cheeks glowed, and her eyes widened in shock. Sure enough, the maroon pullover was emblazoned with an enormous ‘R’, hand-stitched by Ron’s mother several years.

‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Ron. I didn’t even notice. I must have used it during the war, and never returned it. Sorry; I should change⸺’

‘N-no!’ Ron exclaimed, feeling his ears burn. ‘K-keep it! It… it really suits you.’

‘T-thank you, Ron.’

The two of them shared a shy smile. Hermione’s cheeks dimpled as she grinned up at him.

Harry cleared his throat loudly, causing his two friends to startle.

‘Honestly, why don’t you two just get engaged for real while you’re at it?’

‘S-shut up, Harry!’ Hermione stammered, looking more flustered than ever. ‘A-anyway, we really should be off now; Mrs Weasley is expecting us.’

‘Y-yeah!’ Ron agreed. ‘I-I’ll go first, shall I?’

His ears still flushed, Ron picked up his backpack, and stepped into the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder from the container nearby as he did so.

‘The Burrow!’

As green flames erupted around him, Ron caught one last glance of Harry rolling his eyes at the still-flustered Hermione, who swatted him on the arm. Did… did the idea of being engaged to Ron really make her that flustered? The hopeful voice in Ron’s head (that had been growing stronger all day) enthusiastically agreed.

~~~~~~

 

Ron emerged from the Burrow’s kitchen fireplace, face covered in soot. His childhood home looked much the same as it always had, although the walls were now accumulating a far larger amount of photographs (most of the new additions involving the various grandchildren that Molly and Arthur had, due to several of Ron’s siblings becoming parents in recent years). As was the case with wizarding photographs, each framed memory including moving figures, and Ron spotted several versions of his various nieces and nephews smiling out into the kitchen.

‘Ronnie!’

Ron’s mother hastily scourgified the soot away, before pulling him into a hug.

‘Hi mum.’

‘So happy to have you back! And congratulations to you and… where is Hermione, anyway?’

As if on cue, the room was lit by green light.  Hermione tumbled out of the fireplace, and into Ron, who instinctively put his arms around her to steady her.

‘You okay?’

Hermione blinked up at him, her hair haphazardly falling around her face.

‘Y-yes.’ She stammered, looking rather flustered. ‘T-thank you, Ron.’

Neither of them seemed entirely bothered about moving away from each other. Ron was enjoying the feeling of having Hermione in his arms again and -judging by the small smile now playing on Hermione’s lips- she was enjoying this moment too.

‘You two are so sweet!’ Mrs Weasley exclaimed, causing Ron’s ears to go red. ‘I remember Arthur and I being much the same when we were engaged.’

‘Mrs Weasley,’ Hermione mumbled, looking very flustered. ‘Thank you so much for the invitation.’

‘Oh, please call me Molly, dear!’ The Weasley matriarch said, smiling widely at the young bushy-haired witch. Then- as if struck by a sudden realisation- her eyes widened. ‘And… is that Ron’s jumper?’

Hermione’s cheeks glowed again, as all eyes in the room became fixed on the enormous ‘R’ emblazoned on her maroon jumper. Without seeming to realise what she was doing, she looped her arms around Ron’s waist. A shiver went up his spine, and he felt his ears bypass red.

‘W-well, yes…’ Hermione stammered, self-consciously. ‘I… I mean, we are a c-couple, after all.’

Mrs Weasley looked like she was going to start squealing at any moment. Ron could almost see the “can we start planning your wedding?” look forming in his mothers eyes.

The door to the kitchen opened, and several of Ron’s siblings spilled in from the hallway.

‘Awww, look at the two lovebirds getting all embarrassed!’ George chuckled, in an unconvincingly-sincere voice. ‘Little Ronniekins is all grown up!’

‘Shut it!’

‘Now, George, don’t be so rude,’ Mrs Weasley chided, wagging a finger. ‘It’s Ron and Hermione’s first visit as a couple, so I won’t have you teasing them.’

‘Sorry, mum.’

George grinned at Ron knowingly, raising an eyebrow in a way that Ron couldn’t mistake. His stomach dropped.

Oh merlin, they _knew_. They knew him and Hermione were just pretending to be fiancés. Mentally praying that the two of them wouldn’t be subjected to blackmail by his siblings, he hurriedly turned his attention to Charlie, who had stepped forward. If he could just avoid getting cornered by George for a while, they might be okay. And Charlie was (unusually, considering their family) very honourable about these things. With a bit of luck, he wouldn’t rat them out.

‘Congratulations, mate,’ the older Weasley said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. ‘Glad you and Hermione finally got things sorted.’

‘W-what?’ Hermione stammered, looking confused. ‘How do you mean, “finally”?’

Charlie let out a good-natured chuckle.

‘Oh, come off it,’ he said, giving Hermione a knowing look. ‘We all know you and Ron have been barmy about each-other for years.’

Hermione’s eyes dropped down to her feet, looking very awkward. Her hands seemed to clasp more intensely around Ron’s waist, but he didn’t mind. Although Ron did notice once again that everyone seemed to think Hermione fancied him. Given what had happened since Hermione had joined him on the sofa yesterday evening, maybe it wasn’t completely impossible. And –judging from the way she was continuing to hold onto him- it certainly didn’t seem as if Hermione saw him in just a platonic way (even if they were just pretending to be engaged). Could… could he really dare to hope? 

Their behaviour went unnoticed by the other occupants of the kitchen, as Harry had just appeared out of the fire, and –in the scuffle to greet him- Ron and Hermione’s body language didn’t accumilate any raised eyebrows.

After welcoming Harry (and removing the soot from his clothes with a swish of her wand), Mrs Weasley clapped her hands together.

‘Now, everyone, lunch won’t be ready for another hour, so maybe you could all-’

‘I would quite like to speak to Ronald, if I may, Molly.’

Aunt Muriel had appeared behind Mrs Weasley, her eyes beady. Ron was surprised that he hadn’t noticed her before, and he surmised that she had walked in from the sitting room after hearing the raised voices.

‘Er, hello, Aunt Muriel.’

Muriel nodded curtly.

‘Ronald. Miss Granger.’

‘Hello, Mrs Prewitt.’

‘Aunt Muriel… er, what are you doing here?’

The old buzzard cast a suspicious eye over Ron and Hermione, whose arms were still clasped around each other.

‘Why do you think I came to this family get-together, Ronald? To ascertain just whether you and Mrs Granger are an actual couple, of course!’

As Hermione opened her mouth to respond, Ron let out a sigh, mentally groaning. Things were confusing enough between him and Hermione, without the suspicious eye of his buzzard of a great aunt watching over them. Himself and Hermione had barely gotten used to being physical affectionate with each-other for the purposes of keeping up the charade. This was all they needed.

_Bloody hell, this weekend was going to be tough…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please leave kudos and/or comments. 
> 
> I'm setting a preliminary release for the next chapter at maybe a month and a half, although that may change if the next chapter takes less time to write. If you want to be kept updated with this series, please consider subscribing, so that you'll be notified whenever an update is published.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ron have arrived at the Burrow for the Weasley family get-together. However, Aunt Muriel is still sniffing around, and still very much suspicious about their apparent "engagement". However, Hermione will need to contend with more than just that, as her feelings for Ron threaten to overwhelm her. How will she cope? Read on, dear reader, read on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. As you can probably tell by the length, this chapter took a long time to finish. There was so much that I wanted to include, and I wanted to give each event the time it deserved. Hope you all like it!

Hermione Granger was having an interesting morning thus far.

On the one hand, she had her arms around Ron Weasley, which was not a bad state-of-affairs. However, she was also being eyed suspiciously by Ron’s aunt Muriel. Which put something of a damper on her mood.

‘Mrs Prewitt, I really must protest about this. Ron and I are engaged.’

Muriel fixed Hermione with a beady eye.

‘I am not entirely convinced of that yet, Miss Granger. Which is why I invited Miss Lovegood here and⸺’

‘You invited Luna to this?’ Hermione exclaimed, outraged. She let go of Ron, the sudden loss of physical contact adding to her already-rising frustration. ‘How dare you drag her into this? You know fully well she doesn’t want to marry Ron⸺’

‘Hello!’ Luna chirped, appearing out of the crowd of Weasleys, and hugging Hermione tightly. Luna’s timing was -as always- a bit odd. ‘How are you both? I’m so happy for you!’

Hermione tried not to laugh at the frustrated look that was now appearing on Muriel’s face. It was blatantly obvious that Luna was supportive of Ron and Hermione’s “engagement”. Which made sense; considering that Luna was under the impression that they had both fancied each-other since they were at Hogwarts. Funnily enough, everyone she knew seemed to be of the same opinion.

However, Muriel –acting on a whim- pushed Luna slightly to the side, so that she veered into Ron.

‘Ooof.’

‘Sorry, Ronald.’

Hermione felt her stomach drop uneasily. She knew that Luna hadn’t had feelings for Ron since they were at all, but she still felt jealous to see the blonde woman hanging onto Ron as he (being a gentleman) steadied her.

However, Hermione’s jealous thoughts were promptly swept out of her brain, as Ron immediately reached out and took Hermione’s hand in his again. Butterflies exploded in her stomach at his touch.

Luna smiled at the couple, her large grey eyes twinkling.

Hermione felt her cheeks glow again. She doubted she would ever get completely used to how physically close Ron was to her now, but she wasn’t complaining.

‘Congratulations to you both again, by the way!’ Luna exclaimed, shaking Hermione’s hand in a somewhat overenthusiastic way, before doing the same to Ron.

‘Ow; what the⸺?’

Ron clutched his right hand.

‘Sorry, Ronald…’ Luna apologised.  ‘I only got this from Rolf a little while ago, and I haven’t gotten used to a ring on my finger yet.’

‘Ring? Wait, do you mean⸺’

‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier but⸺’

‘Still finding new things about her, eh, Ronald?’ Muriel interrupted, a crafty look playing in her eye. ‘Well, sooner or later, you will get to know Miss Lovegood a lot better.’

That did it. Without thinking, Hermione stepped closer to Ron, squeezing his hand tightly.

‘Mrs Prewitt, Ron isn’t engaged to Luna. He’s engaged to _me_.’

Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand, sending happy goosebumps up her arm. Hermione looked up into the face of the tall redhead standing next to her. Were… were his ears turning pink?

Hermione’s stomach gave a happy lurch. Was… was it really possible?

Aunt Muriel cast a suspicious eye over the couple, and Hermione held her breath. Was it obvious that they weren’t actually a couple?

However, the old buzzard seemed oddly satisfied with their acting, and the suspicious look in her eye dissipated.

‘Oy, let me through, everyone… sorry I’m late, mum…’

Hermione turned. Ginny Weasley had just squeezed her way into the crowded kitchen. She was wearing a pair of old denim dungarees, and with what looked like an old jumper of Harry’s tied around her waist.

Swiftly kissing Harry on the cheek, Ginny then turned to Hermione, casting her a “we need to have a talk” look.

Hermione’s stomach gave a nervous lurch. Looks like she wasn’t going to avoid being interrogated. How on earth was going to explain all this? And to Ron’s little sister, of all people? The prospect of going into detail of her… misdemeanours with Ron send chills through Hermione’s being. 

‘Oh, Ron; why don’t you and Hermione take your things upstairs? Get yourselves sorted?’

‘Sure. Thanks, mum.’

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Weasley.’

‘Oh, call me Molly, dear.’ Mrs Weasley smiled. ‘You’re basically family now.’

Hermione’s stomach squirmed with guilt at the lie they were perpetuating, but she smiled back at Molly, internally praying that she’d make it up to the Weasley matriarch for lying to her like this.

Picking up her bag, Hermione followed Ron up the stairs. She couldn’t help but feel her eyes drop down towards his rear end, and bit down on her lip as she watched the gorgeous rump jiggle up and down.

Feeling suddenly very flustered, she pulled her eyes away. It wasn’t fair of her to leer at Ron like this. No matter how attractive his arse was.

Especially considering that he would never see her the same way.

Although that train of thought didn’t seem quite as certain as it used to be. The words of Harry’s pep talk the previous day seemed to echo in her brain. It had been just before Harry had left for his evening with Ginny; he had knocked on Hermione’s door, finding her sitting miserably at her desk while she ate.

 

_‘Hermione… you’ve got to stop doubting yourself so much…’_

_‘I pressed myself up against him, Harry! How can I ever look him in the eye again, after I treated him like a… a sex doll?! He’s the man I love, and I used him for my own… my own…’_

_‘Please don’t finish that sentence… little brother does not want to hear the details… but do you really think Ron will hold that against you?’_

_‘Of course he won’t! It’s Ron we’re talking about! He’ll be all lovely and feel sorry for me about it! I… I can’t…’_

_‘Hermione, please just talk to him. You can’t avoid him like this. The poor bloke is miserable without you.’_

_‘What? No, he isn’t! He’s…’_

_‘He misses you, Hermione. You forget how much he cares for you-‘_

_‘Harry, please don’t go into your theory that Ron actually fancies me. I don’t want to hear it right now.’_

_‘But he does fancy you! I’ve said this for years! Please… just talk to him?’_

 

As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Harry had been one hundred percent correct. Ron _had_ missed her; he’d told her so much himself. And he’d been so kind and caring. And then…

He’d kissed her.

Well, they’d _practiced_ kissing. It wasn’t really kissing. It wasn’t real. But it hadn’t felt like that at the time. Especially not with the way Ron had… _reacted_ to her straddling his lap.

Hermione felt her legs tremble.

Had Ron really been… _aroused_ by her? The evidence was difficult to counteract. When she’d been sitting in his lap, she’d _felt_ him once again. And he wasn’t asleep that time. He had been _very much_ awake.

Hermione wondered whether it was just the effect of the kissing and increased physical contact that had caused his… loins to stir. But that didn’t explain the way he had looked at her afterward. The way he had said her name had send shivers up her spine. His tone had been so warm… so caring… almost like he didn’t see her as just a friend.

Speaking of which, had she really almost confessed her feelings right there and then?

Hermione’s mind whirred as she wondered what might have happened if Harry hadn’t arrived home at that moment.

Would she have told Ron how she really felt? How would Ron have reacted? Would he have looked at her sadly, replying that he didn’t see her the same way? Or (Hermione’s heart pounded at the prospect) would Ron have replied that he loved her too, kissing her passionately again? Despite herself, Hermione hoped it would be the latter.

The feel of Ron’s hands in her hair, and on her waist, while his lips hungrily pressed themselves to hers was too pleasurable to just be a one-time thing. She wanted more. Would Ron have done that again, if she had told him her true feelings? Would she ever get the chance to kiss him again? After all, the whole point of “practicing” was to make themselves seem like a couple. Surely, it would be expected of them to kiss?

Hermione felt shivers of excitement and hope flow through her, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. The prospect of being that physically close to Ron again was almost too good to think about.

Speaking of being physically close, she had surprised herself that morning. She’d greeted Ron by wrapping her arms around his waist. Judging from his flustered reaction, he had certainly noticed. She hoped she hadn’t been too obvious with her comments about being his fiancé. But -then again- she had also kissed him on the cheek as she left. Ron hadn’t seemed to mind either, though. And that gave her hope.

Hope that had been reinforced by his reaction to her wearing his old jumper.

The memory of Ron saying that she should keep it sent warmth through her stomach, and she couldn’t help but smile. Hermione had always loved Ron’s jumpers, even though he himself seemed to find them embarrassing. She loved their warmth, their soft texture, and the fact that they felt so utterly… _Weasley_. Or -possibly- it was due to the fact they smelled like Ron.  Hermione breathed in the warm, slightly-spicy smell of the jumper covering her upper body, and tried to imagine it was Ron enveloping her in his arms. Although she didn’t have to try quite so hard to imagine that anymore. She had gotten the real thing the previous night.

She was pulled out of her thoughts, however, as they arrived at Ron’s childhood bedroom, and Ron pushed open the door.

It looked much the same as it had when they were teenagers. Apart from the Chudley Cannons posters (which Ron had carefully hung up in frames in his bedroom at their flat), the room had changed little in the intervening years. There was even the camp bed that Harry used to use when staying over in the summer.

Ron dropped their bags gently onto the floor in the centre of the room.

‘You can sleep in my bed.’

Hermione felt her eyes widen, and her heart beat quicker against her chest.

‘W-what?’ she squeaked. ‘Sleep in your⸺’

‘I’ll use the camp bed. It’s not a big deal.’

‘O-oh, right.’

Of course. Ron was just being a gentleman. He hadn’t meant anything by his statement. It was unfair of her to feel disappointed that she wouldn’t be sleeping in the bed with him.

‘You lovebirds decent?’

Both Ron and Hermione jumped, and turned in the direction of the door, which then opened. Ginny poked her head through the gap.

The youngest Weasley sibling stared at the couple, and the flustered expressions on their faces.

‘Honestly, this isn’t much different to what you two were like as friends.’

‘Ginny!’

Hermione felt her cheeks burn again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ron’s face going red. But it didn’t seem like he was irritated by the insinuation. More… bashful?

A small spark of hope ignited into life inside Hermione’s heart. Did their current situation really seem that normal from an outside perspective? Their friendship had always been more… volatile than -say- both of their friendships with Harry, after all. Not in a bad way, but in the way that herself and Ron worked so well as a team. Argumentative and constantly fizzing with energy. It had never been a boring friendship. Hermione never got bored around Ron, and the same seemed to be true for Ron. But… did that mean people thought Ron and Hermione were a couple anyway? Certainly, most of their friends seemed to believe this.

Hermione felt her stomach explode with butterflies. The idea of her being a part of a couple with Ron sounded very nice. And -by the looks of things- Ron wasn’t appalled by the insinuation either.  Maybe there was more hope for Hermione than she thought.

Ginny flicked her eyes once more between the two. A shrewd look appeared in her brown eyes.

‘Hermione, can we talk for a minute, please? In private?’

‘Er⸺’

‘I’ll go,’ Ron said. ‘I’ll just be downstairs.’

He reached out to Hermione, and squeezed her hand, before smiling softly at her, and leaving the room. The door closed gently behind him.

As the shock of this wore off, Hermione’s heartrate seemed to rapidly increase. What was all _that_ about? Ron had always been sweet, but this was just… unfair. How could her heart deal with him being so wonderful when it came seemingly out of nowhere?

‘You look rather happy.’

Hermione whipped her head round.

Ginny was staring at her with a knowing smile plastered over her face.

‘W-well, why wouldn’t I be? I’m engaged.’

Ginny cast a silencing charm on the door, before turning round to Hermione with her arms crossed.

‘Really? Because… until last week, it seemed like you were pining after Ron. And I doubt either of you would pop the question _that_ fast. So what the heck is going on?’

Hermione groaned. They had been rumbled. Ginny knew they were only pretending to be engaged.

‘Well, it’s rather a complicated story…’

‘I’ve got time.’

And so -with many stops and starts- Hermione recounted all that had happened to her and Ron over the past few weeks. Well, most of the details, anyway. She didn’t think Ginny wanted to hear the more… risqué moments that had transpired between Ron and Hermione.

‘Pretending to be engaged?!’

‘N-not forever!’ Hermione exclaimed, waving her hands frantically. ‘It’s… it’s just until your Aunt Muriel stops with her ridiculous arranged-marriage plan!’

‘Well… I guess. She’s always been a nightmare. But still…’

‘Ginny, I’m… I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you!’ Hermione stammered. Ginny was supposed to be one of her closest friends, after all. It wasn’t right of Hermione to not tell her. ‘I just… I was terrified you would think I was some sort of hopeless fool, using this as an excuse to get close to Ron⸺’

‘No! Hermione, I wouldn’t think that!’ Ginny exclaimed, urgently, putting a comforting hand on Hermione’s arm. ‘I know you’d never do anything to hurt Ron!’

‘But I’m lying to Molly! She’s been like a second mother to me all these years, and she’s so happy about this engagement, and it’s not even true, and I just…’

The younger redheaded woman put her arms around Hermione, pulling her into a hug.

‘It’s okay, Hermione. Besides, mum likely knows that you two aren’t a couple anyway.’

‘How⸺?’

‘A mother knows these things. And I think she really likes the idea of you and Ron being engaged. That’s why she’s playing along.’

‘That’s ridiculous! Why would she⸺?’

But Hermione’s memories from the past few weeks whizzed in front of her eyes. Ron saying she was gorgeous, Ron kissing her, Ron staring after her, Ron comforting, Ron murmuring her name in his sleep as he held her in his arms⸺

‘Hermione, are you okay?’

Hermione’s cheeks glowed. _Oh god, what was she thinking about in front of Ron’s sister?_

‘I⸺ I⸺’

‘What on earth have you and Ron been getting up to?’

Hermione would rather sink deep into the earth before discussing anything about her physical relationship with Ron. The fact that she was being asked about it by Ron’s little sister made it even worse.

‘Hermione?’ Ginny asked, tentatively. ‘Did Ron… do something to you that you weren’t comfortable with⸺’

‘No!’ Hermione exclaimed, horrified by the very thought. ‘No, if anything, _I_ was the one who did something Ron wasn’t comfortable with! I mean⸺’

Ginny’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

‘Ron and I… slept together, you see, and⸺’

Ginny let a happy shriek, bouncing up and down on the mattress in her excitement.

‘You mean the two of you finally shagged?! Hermione, that’s⸺’

‘N-no!’ Hermione squealed, shaking her head frantically. ‘N-nothing like that! We just… shared a bed.’

Ginny looked even more confused.

‘So why are you looking like you did something scandalous?’

‘I… I…’

‘ _Hermione_?’

‘I… pressed myself up against Ron. Against his… you know… _man_ parts.’

Ginny looked rather uncomfortable. Understandable, considering this was her older brother they were talking about, after all.

‘And that’s made you upset _because_ …?’

‘I did it while he was asleep.’

‘Oh.’

Hermione put her face in her hands. She was a pervert and a creep. Basically a molester. She knew that Ron didn’t hold it against her, but she couldn’t help but feel like she’d crossed a line. How could she ever look at herself, knowing what she’d done to the man she loved? How could⸺

‘So… how did Ron react?’

Hermione let out a squeak, all self-loathing thoughts swept out of her mind as her face heated up.   _Oh, god…_

‘He… he…. w-well, he…’

‘Oh, spit it out!’ Ginny said, urgently. ‘Hermione, how did Ron react?’

Hermione stared down at her feet, unable to look Ginny in the face.

‘He… pressed into me,’ she mumbled, in a very small voice. As if whispering the words would lessen the impact. ‘N-nuzzled into my hair. He… he moaned my name. G-g-grabbed onto my hips. A-and then he… he pressed into me even more. I… couldn’t stop myself moaning his name.’

Hermione scrunched up her eyes, expecting Ginny to walk away and slam the door of the small room. Why wouldn’t Ginny be disgusted? This was her brother they were talking about.

‘Was… was that it?’

Hermione’s head snapped up. Ginny didn’t look disgusted. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But her eyes still showed concern for Hermione. Which gave her strength.

‘Er… well…’

‘ _Hermione_.’

‘I… well, you remember when I mentioned the “practising” thing?’⸺Ginny nodded slowly⸺ ‘Last night, we… well… w-we… we kissed.’

‘HAH!’ Ginny exclaimed, triumphantly. Her face broke into a wide smile, and she happily jumped up and down on the mattress where she sat. ‘Hermione, that’s great! You two finally snogged! Congratulations!’

‘No… No, you don’t understand!’

Ginny really didn’t get it. There was nothing to give congratulations for! Ron had only done it for “practice”! It wasn’t… real. It would never be real.

‘It wasn’t really snogging!’ Hermione lamented, her heart thudding miserably against her chest. ‘Not… not _really_. Ron only suggested it because of this weekend⸺’

‘ _Ron_ suggested that the two of you kiss?’

‘Yes, but don’t you see?’ Hermione said, ignoring the irritatingly-smug look on Ginny’s face. ‘He only did that so we could fool your aunt Muriel; he’d _never_ want to do that normally!’

‘I doubt that.’

The hope in Hermione’s heart perked up at Ginny’s words. Because… well, even Hermione herself was starting to doubt it too.

‘Well… f-for a moment, it _did_ seem like he’d… he’d want to do it normally⸺’

‘Obviously, he does! He’s barmy for you!’

Hermione felt her face flush again. _Was that really true?_

‘Ginny, don’t be silly. Ron doesn’t see me that way…’

She trailed off. Hermione had been saying this for years, but her faith in that statement was running rather thin as-of-late. To all intents and purposes, things had definitely changed between Ron and her recently. And when Ron had been kissing her, he’d been so sweet and tender. So caring and loving. So passionate.

Ron wasn’t the sort of person who hid things, as a general rule. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. And –in all the time Hermione had known Ron- he had never pretended to be anything he wasn’t.

So… when he had been so passionate with her… did that mean that…

That Ron Weasley might… _love_ her the same way she loved him?

All the evidence seemed to be pointing in that direction. But Hermione had never been brave when it came to these matters. If she had been, she might have snogged Ron during the battle of Hogwarts. But she just couldn’t risk it; what if everyone was wrong, and Ron really did see her as just a friend? She didn’t think she could take the rejection; he was the most important person in her life, and she couldn’t bare to imagine what life might be like without him. Not that he would be rude of course (this was Ron Weasley, after all). No doubt he would do something really sweet and let her down easy. But it was the possibility that he might not be as close to her afterwards that terrified her.

She just… she didn’t think she could take the chance.

Ginny sighed. She put a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

‘Hermione, I know Ron. And I know that he loves you.’

Hermione let out a sad chuckle.

‘Does he, though? How can I possibly know that? Asking him is presumably out of the question⸺’

‘Considering that this is you? Yes. But maybe try testing him a little⸺’

‘I tried that, Ginny.’ Hermione said, miserably. ‘I tried that when we were at Hogwarts. It never worked.’

Ginny shook her head.

‘I don’t mean trying to make him jealous. That wouldn’t work anyway; there’s no point attacking a man’s ego if he doesn’t _have_ an ego. You need to get Ron into a situation where he can’t help but show his feelings for you. You know he’s always been better at actions than words.’

 Hermione considered this. But what kind of situation would that even be? And could she even work up the courage for it?

‘Thank you, Ginny. I’m… I’m sorry I’ve just dumped all this on you. I understand it must be weird to hear all these things about your brother.’

Ginny shook her head dismissively.

‘It is a bit weird, but… I mean, I’ve known for years how much you love Ron. I knew that -sooner or later- things between you two would get physical. Speaking of things getting physical…’

Ginny walked over to Hermione’s bag, and began pulling out clothes.

‘What are you⸺?’

‘Well, we need to find you something to wear at dinner that’s going to knock Ron’s socks off. Trust me, by the time we’ve got your outfit sorted, Ron’s going to want nothing more than to get physical with you.’

Hermione smiled nervously.

~~~~~~~

 

After what felt like several hours of clothing talk with Ginny (most of which went over Hermione’s head), Hermione descended down the staircase. She felt a little disorientated after all the things Ginny had said, and her shoulders were now starting to hurt. Rubbing them, Hermione stopped by a window, looking out over the pond and the orchard. Hermione smiled softly to herself; she remembered spending many happy teenage summers here, back when the threat against the wizarding world was so great, and she had more to worry about than pining for her best friend and a non-existent engagement to said-best friend. Speaking of whom…

‘Oh, sorry, ‘Mione.’

A ginger man had promptly walked into her. Of course, it happened to be the ginger man she was besotted with.

‘N-no problem, Ron.’

‘Did… did your talk with Ginny go okay?’

‘Oh, yes. Very well, indeed.’ Hermione went on her tiptoes, and leaned close to his ear. ‘She knows… you know, about… _us_.’

It might have been Hermione’s imagination, but Ron’s ears seemed to turn pink again as she whispered close to his head. Probably just a trick of the light, but Hermione couldn’t be sure.

‘O-oh, right.’ Ron mumbled, scratching the back of his head with his hand. ‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me. She knows us too well.’

‘I suppose. She helped me get some clothes sorted for dinner, as well.’

‘R-really?’⸺Ron’s face seemed to flush slightly⸺ ‘Why?’

‘It’s my first dinner at the Burrow as your fiancé. Didn’t I say earlier? I want to make a good impression.’

‘You’re gorgeous anyway, ‘Mione. You… you know that, right? You’d look gorgeous wearing nothing at all.’

Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks, and her eyes widened. Ron seemed to immediately realise the implications of what he had just said, because he promptly flushed scarlet.

‘I-I didn’t mean it like that. I… I just…’

Hermione couldn’t help but smile, despite her blushes. He was so adorable when he was flustered like this. And he was getting flustered over _her_ , of all people…

‘I know what you mean, Ron. Thank you.’

Before she could get second thoughts, she stood up on tip-toe again, and pecked him on the cheek.

Ron’s eyes widened and his face seemed to turn ever redder. Interesting. Maybe… maybe Ginny’s assessment wasn’t entirely incorrect.

‘‘M-Mione…’ Ron stammered. ‘You don’t have to do that when other people aren’t around, you know. I mean, I know you probably don’t want to.’

Hermione looked up at him, and turned her head slightly to the side. Why was Ron so adamant that he was unattractive? She understood he was insecure, but could he really not see how wonderful he was? How could he not see himself the way she saw him? Well, maybe she could help change that. Maybe she wasn’t brave enough to tell him her feelings just yet, but she could make it clear just how much she cared for him.

‘Whatever gave you the idea that I… that I _don’t_ want to?’

She reached out and took Ron’s hand in hers.

Ron’s eyes widened slightly, and his blue irises seemed to sparkle. A large smile stretched over his face.

‘Good point.’

The two shared a smile, with neither of them seemingly able to break eye contact. Ron’s eyes were filled with a soft warmth, as he stared down at her. Those blue orbs seemed to sparkle. With embarrassment, yes? But also with happiness, joy and… something else Hermione couldn’t quite place. Was it… hope?

The bushy-haired witch felt her heart clench tightly at the thought. Oh, god, please let it be hope.

Eventually, though, Ron jerked his head in the direction of the ground floor.

‘Shall we head down for lunch, then? I think Mum is just about ready to serve up…’

‘Yes.’ Hermione grinned; feeling more relaxed than she had done for a while. Ron always seemed to have that effect on her. ‘Let’s do that.’

And -hands still intertwined- they descended the rest of the staircase, the sounds of Molly plating up the lunchtime food growing louder and louder.

However, nothing could be louder in Hermione’s mind that the heavy pounding of her heart, as Ron softly held her hand.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

‘So… Ron, when did you and Hermione become a couple?’

Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice, feeling her stomach twist with worry. They were halfway through lunch, and Molly had suddenly come out with this question. Muriel looked up from her own food, an inquiring look in her beaky eye.

This wasn’t good; they hadn’t planned a backstory as to when they became a couple. What were they going to⸺

‘It’s actually quite a long story, mum.’

Ron had spoken, pulling Hermione out of her own thoughts in that way he always did. His voice was calm and relaxed, betraying none of the worry and nervousness that Hermione was feeling. Why people thought Ron was unconfident was baffling to her. But maybe she just paid more attention to him than others did.

‘That’s alright, dear.’ Mrs Weasley smiled. ‘We like a good story.’

Ron bit down on his lower lip as he thought about (presumably) where he should start. Merlin, Hermione loved that lower lip. He’d sucked on her lips with that the previous evening. He’d _kissed her_ with those lips⸺

‘I guess it began when we met on the Hogwarts Express.’

Wait, _what_? Why was Ron going back that far? Hermione tried to keep the confusion off her face, and nodded along, as if she was perfectly aware of where this recollection was going.

‘As you all know, me and ‘Mione didn’t get along very well at first.’

‘Understatement of the century.’ Harry chuckled, before grinning apologetically. ‘Sorry; I interrupted. Carry on, mate.’

‘Right. Where was I? Oh yeah, first year. We didn’t get along at first. I thought she was a know-it-all, and she thought I was an uncouth prat. Which -to be fair- I was. Still am, to be honest.’

Hermione shook her head. Why did he have to be so self-deprecating? He wasn’t uncouth, nor was he a prat. He had his moments, yes, but so did she. He had always been more than that. At least, he was to her. She wasn’t sure when that had changed; when she had realised just how much more to Ron Weasley there was than the boy on the Hogwarts Express with dirt on his nose. Maybe she had always seen him as more than that; she just hadn’t realised.

‘Anyway, we argued and bickered. But then the troll happened. We became friends. Argued and bickered still, but as friends.’

Harry and Ginny both chuckled. They no-doubt remembered just how much their two friends had bickered whilst they were students at Hogwarts.

‘I’m not sure when it really clicked for me.’ Ron continued. ‘I guess I always saw Hermione in a different way to how I saw everyone else. There was no big thunderbolt moment. All I knew is… I woke up one day and realised I never wanted to leave her side.’

Ron’s eyes tentatively met Hermione’s. The blue orbs were warm and fond, full of compassion and tenderness. Almost like he… _like he_ … but no, he was just doing that to keep the allusion going, surely?

‘I said before that I thought ‘Mione was a nightmare when I first met her. And –while that was true- it changed over time. Eventually, I realised that she was a nightmare I never wanted to wake up from.’

‘Before I had even realised it,’⸺ Ron’s eyes met hers again, and Hermione seemed to lose the ability to breathe⸺ ‘I’d fallen in love with Hermione Granger.’

Hermione felt like her heart was going to explode.

Oh, merlin, the words he was saying… so tender and sweet. Could he really be saying them just for the illusion of their engagement? Was the universe that harsh? Hermione didn’t know if Ron was any good an actor, but the way he was looking at her made her question whether he was just pretending. How much of this was just him keeping up the charade? How could he invent such a wonderfully romantic and heartfelt backstory at the drop of a hat? How was that possible?

Was he really just pretending? Or was there something… _more_?

The world around Hermione seemed to melt away; leaving only Ron, and the look in his eyes as he smiled at her.

Muriel was flicking her eyes suspiciously between Hermione and Ron, as if trying to find some hole in their story, but Luna (who was seated between Muriel and Ginny) was grinning knowingly at Hermione, who felt her cheeks glow. Ron’s story matched up almost exactly with what Luna had said to Hermione in the kitchen over a week ago. Was it really possible that what Ron was saying was… true?

Certainly, Molly seemed to believe it to be true. The Weasley matriarchs’ face was wreathed in an enormous smile as she looked at the two of them. Clearly, Ron’s story had completely made her forget about her original question. Which Hermione had no problems with.

What she did have a problem with was the pain in her shoulders, which had now spread to her upper back. Maybe she had become more self-conscious as a result of the story Ron had just told?

She gingerly rubbed one shoulder with her hand, and winced.

‘‘Mione, you okay?’

Ron had turned to her. His eyes were full of concern.

‘O-oh, yes,’ she stammered, feeling her stomach drop several feet. ‘My shoulders are just hurting a bit.’

‘No worries, ‘Mione.’ Ron said, reaching out and rubbing her other hand with his thumb, causing goosebumps to erupt up her arm. ‘I’ll give you a massage later.’

The table erupted in a cacophony of different reactions. George promptly burst out laughing, Bill and Charlie both bit down on their lips to stop themselves giggling, whilst Ginny shot Hermione a “what-did-I-tell-you?” look, at which point Hermione’s brain went into overdrive.

Hermione felt her eyes widen in shock, and all the blood seemed to rise in her face. Ron? Giving her a massage? The last time his hands had been on her body, she’d barely been able to maintain control of herself. How could she keep herself together, especially after the heartfelt story he had just spun? Her heart was positively bursting with love for the redhead, and he wanted to… massage her?

Also, considering what Ginny had said earlier, this was the perfect opportunity to discover just how Ron felt about her. But could she really hold herself together enough to carry out her half-baked plan?

Panicking, Hermione opened her mouth.

‘Oh, that’s really not necessary⸺’

‘I don’t mind.’ Ron said, reaching out his hand to her shoulder. His fingers began to gently work the muscles.

‘Good grief, you are wound up tight. ‘Mione, why didn’t you say anything? It’s gonna take more than a short shoulder rub to get this sorted.’

Hermione felt herself scarcely able to talk at that moment, because the second Ron’s hand had settled onto her shoulder, her brain had disengaged, and her eyes had fluttered shut. At that moment, all she could do was bit down on her lower lip. The temptation to let out a contented sigh was almost too strong to resist. But resist she must. She couldn’t do that just from Ron rubbing her shoulder; even for her, that was too much.

Hermione gently eased her eyes open, and let out a deep breath.

‘O-okay, then.’

‘Great. This afternoon, then?’

‘That… that sounds fine.’

Ron grinned at her, and Hermione felt her stomach flip over.

‘Ah, young love,’ Mrs Weasley mused, fondly. Hermione startled; the Weasley matriarch had clearly been watching their exchange. ‘I remember when myself and Arthur were that age. Couldn’t keep out hands off⸺’

‘ _Mum_!’ 

‘Oh, grow up, you lot.’

As Ron’s siblings groaned, Hermione caught a sideways glance at Ron. He didn’t look especially embarrassed at the idea. And it seemed to make their story more believable. Maybe that was why he was on-board with the idea? Pushing aside that depressing thought, Hermione hastily drained the rest of her goblet. Ron was just being a good friend, after all. Nothing more. But… she was getting a massage from him that afternoon. With all the physical intimacy that entailed.

Hermione swallowed her last mouthful of pumpkin juice. She suddenly felt very nervous.

Unbeknownst to her, Muriel Prewitt flicked her eyes between the bushy-haired witch and the youngest Weasley son, her beady eyes looking less doubtful than they ever had before.

~~~~~~~~

 

 

After lunch had finished, Hermione and Ron wandered back upstairs. However, Hermione’s mind was still racing, and she hurriedly pulled Ron into a random room. Judging from the dragon posters on the wall, this had been Charlie’s childhood bedroom.

‘‘Mione, you sure you’re okay?’ Ron asked, looking a little concerned. ‘Did you want to talk about something?’

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, nervously. She wasn’t sure quite how she could frame this in a platonic way. But she was Hermione Granger, and if she knew one thing, it was how to frame an argument.

‘Did… did you really mean that?’ She whispered, feeling her cheeks glow. ‘I mean, what you said about us… well, getting along. When we were students. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around, after all.’

The tips of Ron’s ears turned red. He didn’t seem to be able to look Hermione in the eye.

‘W-well…’ Ron stammered, looking very awkward. ‘I… I just… it was the first thing I could think of. I mean, I _don’t_ see you as a nightmare. Haven’t done for over a decade. I just… kinda said what came to mind.’

‘O-oh, right.’

Hermione trailed off. As she had been staring up at Ron, she couldn’t help but notice a clump of something attached to the ceiling.

‘M-mistletoe.’

Ron looked up. His eyes widened slightly.

‘O-oh, yeah.’

‘What’s it doing in Charlie’s room?’

Wait, why was she thinking about that, of all things? She was stood under mistletoe with Ron Weasley! No wonder people told her to sort out her priorities so often, if she was like this!

‘I think Mum must have got into the habit of putting them up early. Sort of a good luck charm.’

‘Oh, I see. It’s quite unlucky to be under mistletoe, isn’t it?’

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Apparently, you have to… kiss underneath. To… to make the bad luck go away.’

Hermione’s heart pounded against her chest. _Had she really just said that?_

‘I’ve… I’ve heard that too.’

Ron’s eyes flicked down to Hermione’s mouth, and she felt her stomach flip over. She wasn’t entirely sure if her feet were still touching the floor. Was… was Ron really thinking about kissing her?

‘‘Mione… it… it would be very bad to be unlucky during this get-together, wouldn’t it?’

‘O-oh, yes. Very bad, indeed.’

‘I mean, we _should_ probably take advantage of any opportunities for good luck. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I… I would agree, Ron. That would be incredibly advantageous.’

Ron licked his lips, and took a step forward. He was so close that Hermione could see every freckle on his pale skin. She felt the blood pounding in her ears, as Ron gradually got closer and closer. His eyes fluttered shut, and Ron angled his head to the side. Hermione felt her legs quiver. Moving slowly, Ron leaned forward. His lips brushed against hers⸺

‘UNCLE RON!’

The two of them sprang apart as the door flew open, revealing several of Ron’s nieces and nephews.

‘Heeey, guys!’ Ron exclaimed, crouching down as little Victoire threw herself into his arms.

Hermione smiled to herself. Of all the times for Ron to show her how good he was with children, why did it have to be _now_? He was attractive enough as it was! Oh, well. She wasn’t complaining.

‘Victoire, why don’t you talk to Hermione while I talk to Uncle Ron, ‘kay?’

Bill and Fleur had entered the room.

‘Okay!’ The impetuous toddler grinned. She immediately threw her arms around Hermione’s waist. ‘Hello, Hermione!’

Hermione chuckled, as she hugged back. This little girl was absolutely adorable. No wonder she had Ron wrapped around her little finger. As Ron followed Bill out of the room, the younger Weasley looked over his shoulder, and gave Hermione a little smile.

The bushy-haired witch felt her cheeks glow again.

‘When are you going to get married to Uncle Ron?’ Victoire asked, very seriously. Her eyes were narrowed, and her cheeks were puffed out in an attempt at severity.

‘O-oh…’ Hermione stammered, feeling rather like she was being interrogated. Despite the interrogator barely being able to walk and hugging her around the middle. ‘W-well, probably within the next year.’

‘You better be! Uncle Ron should have a good wedding!’

‘I’ll… I’ll make sure he does.’

‘Yay!’

Victoire hugged Hermione tighter, before letting go. The toddler then began to goggle in delight at the pictures of dragons covering the walls. Hermione imagined that Charlie was probably second only to Ron in the ‘coolest uncles’ rankings, given his adoration for dragons.

‘You ‘ave her approval.’

Fleur had sat down on the bed.

‘I… I suppose I do.’

‘That iz good. Ron and yourself will have a good wedding.’  

‘I’m… I’m sure it won’t be as good as yours.’

Fleur shook her head, her beautiful blonde hair swaying softly.

‘Ours was ‘eld during a war. The situations were very different. The wedding is not about the superficial elements, but the couple involved. And yourself and Ronald are a wonderful couple.’

Hermione felt her cheeks flush again.

‘W-well, I wouldn’t want to be boastful. We… we get along very well.’

Fleur raised an eyebrow.

‘More than very well. I ‘ave seen the way you both look at each-other. Ever since I first met you both at ‘Ogwarts. It is the same look that myself and Bill give each-other.’

Hermione felt herself becoming very flustered. Why did everyone automatically assume Hermione’s feelings for Ron were reciprocated? What possible evidence did they have?

Well ⸺a stubborn voice in Hermione’s head replied⸺ what possible evidence do you have that Ron _doesn’t_ see you as more than a friend?

Hermione struggled to maintain the calm expression on her face. _Good grief, her brain really did not want her to relax today, did it?_

~~~~~~~~

 

‘Uncle Ron!’

Hermione was brought out of her thoughts with a crash, as Victoire leapt off of the floor. Ron and Bill had re-entered the room.

‘Hi princess!’ Ron grinned, as he hugged her again. ‘Hey; I remember your grandma said something about chocolate biscuits earlier⸺’

‘Yay!’

Victoire ran happily out of the room, trying to find her grandmother, followed by Bill and Fleur, who gave Hermione a knowing smile as she closed the door behind them.

Ron turned to Hermione.

‘Oh, Bill says that all my brothers know that we’re only pretending…’⸺ A sudden thought seemed to appear to Ron, and he continued⸺ ‘…don’t worry, though; he’s said that none of them are gonna blackmail us over it. Not even George.’

‘That’s great! But… why?’

Ron’s ears seemed to turn pink again.

‘Oh, w-well, it’s the quickest way to get Muriel off our backs about this arranged marriage. They don’t want her sniffing around constantly.’

Hermione got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the only reason, but she couldn’t imagine why else Ron’s brothers would be so helpful in keeping up their charade. Ron wasn’t a good liar, by any stretch. She knew this. But she also knew that he would never hide something from hurt if it was important. Oh, well; she imagined she would find out sooner or later. Ron was notoriously bad at keeping lies going. It was one of the endearingly-sweet things about him.

On this occasion, she decided to just breeze over it as if she hadn’t noticed. 

‘Ginny says that she’ll cover for us as well.’

‘That’s good.’

Hermione’s line of sight happened to latch onto the mistletoe still hanging from the ceiling. Which reminded her of the events that had transpired before they were interrupted.

Ron… Ron had been about to kiss her. Technically, he had. Their lips had touched, after all. There was no doubt about that.

There wasn’t any “practicing” going on. Or maybe that’s the way Ron saw it? That they had taken advantage of a rare moment alone to make sure they could still act like a couple.

But how could she be sure that was all there was to it? It certainly didn’t feel like a kiss for “practicing” sake. Although, the first kiss (well, snog would be more appropriate) the previous evening hadn’t really felt like practicing either. Come to think about it, nothing they had “practiced” so far had really felt artificial. It all felt very passionate and very… real.

Hermione bit down on her lower lip. 

‘Er… Ron…?’

‘Yeah?’

Ron’s eyes were open and honest as they stared down at her. Hermione swallowed nervously.

‘When we were under that mistletoe…’

Ron’s ears turned pink again.

‘S-sorry, did I push you into it? Merlin! I’m sorry, ‘Mione, I shouldn’t have⸺’

‘No! You didn’t force me at all!’

‘I mean,’ Ron blabbered on, looking decidedly nervous. ‘I’d never kissed anyone before yesterday, so I don’t know how I should behave about this stuff and⸺’

‘W-what?’ Hermione stammered, her head spinning. Was… was he serious? That couldn’t be possible! ‘Yesterday… when we… _That_ was your first kiss?’

Now looking at her through his lashes, Ron nodded.

She had been his first kiss. _Oh, merlin._

She ⸺plain old Hermione Granger⸺ had been this wonderful, gorgeous man’s first kiss. His _very first_. His lips had been virgin territory, never before touched by those of anyone-else. Hermione had been his first.

The thought sent quivers of joy through Hermione’s very being.

_No! That wasn’t right! She shouldn’t feel happy about this!_

‘R-Ron, I’m… I’m so sorry!’ Hermione exclaimed, trying to inject some genuine sincerity into her voice. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I took away your first kiss just for “practicing”. That was wrong of me; I shouldn’t have⸺

‘N-no! It’s… it’s fine!’

‘What? How on earth can it be fine? Why are you so okay with this?’

Ron’s ears bypassed pink and turned bright red. Swallowing loudly, he looked Hermione directly in the eye, and spoke in barely a whisper.

‘Because… if my first kiss was going to be with anyone, I’m… I’m glad it was with you.’

Hermione felt like the world was spinning around her. _Ron was happy about her being his first kiss?_

Why on earth would he possibly be happy with that? About his first kiss being a swottish know-it-all with a child-like body and terrible hair? Well, Ron had said before that he thought she was gorgeous, but he didn’t mean… _that was different, surely… he was just being kind…._

But was Hermione just fooling herself by insisting that was all he had meant?

Ron’s eyes fixed her with a blazing, strong look that took her breath away. He stepped almost imperceptibly closer, and Hermione felt her legs tremble as her heart began to pound against her chest.

‘Ron… I… I…’

The door slammed open again, and the two of them broke apart.

Mentally cursing her own bad luck, but also shocked by what she had almost let slip, Hermione watched as Victoire gave Ron another big hug.

What the heck had just been about to happen? What did Ron mean by being happy she was his first kiss? And what had been with that look Ron had been giving her?

Had he really been about to kiss her again?

And… once again, it seemed like Hermione had been about to blurt out her feelings in the heat of the moment. When she had been so willing to throw caution to the winds? But Ron seemed to have that effect on her, as-of-late. _Oh, who was she kidding?_ Ron had _always_ had that effect on her. It had simply only gotten stronger recently.

‘Come on, ‘Toire. Stop bothering Uncle Ron.’

‘Sorry…’

Ron chuckled, as the toddler hugged him once again, before running out the room. Bill closed the door, leaving Ron and Hermione alone again.

‘She…. she loves you, doesn’t she?’ Hermione stammered, trying to inject some joviality into her voice. She had never been good at social interaction, even as a child. Nowadays, she was a little better. And being flustered didn’t exactly make things easy. Unfortunately, being around Ron at that particular moment made her feel very flustered.

However, Ron was not a socially-awkward dork like she was, and -if he noticed her flustered behaviour- he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he chuckled warmly, and turned to look at Hermione again.

‘Victoire loves all of us. She’s always been like that.’

‘You’re a fantastic uncle, Ron.’

‘I guess.’⸺ Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed as he always did whenever he was paid a compliment⸺ ‘Not very likely that I’ll ever have my own kids, after all.’

‘Don’t be silly; you’d be a great father.’

Something shifted in Ron’s expression.

‘Y-you think so?’

Hermione nodded.

‘Any woman would be lucky to have _you_ as the father of their children.’

There was a very pregnant silence, as the impact of these words washed over them both. Was… was she really imagining that Ron would have children with her someday? Had she really become completely delusional?

But –by the look on Ron’s face- it didn’t seem like he thought it was a bad delusion.

‘Er… ‘Mione?’

‘Yes?’

‘Er… about what happened… b-before we were interrupted?’

Hermione looked down at her feet, the blood rising in her cheeks. Oh, god; was he really going to continue where he left off? Her heart had barely withstood it the first time. And… and what if he was going to apologise? She couldn’t bare it if he said it was a mistake.

‘Y-yes, Ron?’

Hermione’s flicked up to the redhead. His head was tilted slightly to the side, as if he wasn’t sure how to continue.

‘D-did I⸺?’

‘You didn’t do anything wrong!’ Hermione exclaimed, urgently.

Ron blinked, looking a little startled.

‘I… I didn’t?’

Hermione shook her head. _When was Ron going to stop acting like he was constantly screwing up around her_? Did he really not see just how much she adored him? She supposed it was her own fault for rarely being appreciative towards him when they were at school. Sadly, a lot of the time, her own fear of her feelings becoming known had prevented her from being there for him when he really needed it.

Well, that was then, and this was now. Ron needed to know that he didn’t have to act like he was constantly walking on egg-shells around her.

‘Not at all.’

‘Oh.’

There was another pause.

‘Hermione?’

‘Y-yes, Ron?’

‘I can give you that massage now. If you want, I mean.’

Hermione tried not to let the disappointment appear on her face. _Why was he changing the subject?_ Did he really not want to continue what had happened? Why had he even bothered asking her about it, then? He couldn’t just her hopes up like that, her heart couldn’t take it⸺

Wait, _massage_?

Hermione’s brain was instantly filled with the memories of what had happened the last time Ron had placed his hands on her. The hazy memory of the flames licking her insides sent butterflies swarming through Hermione’s stomach. She… she could feel that way again? And Ron was suggesting it?

Maybe… maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea? And the mood had already been ruined, anyway. It was no use trying to recapture that atmosphere.

Hermione swallowed. Good grief, all these mood swings could not be good for her health. No wonder she was so stressed.  

‘If… if that’s okay with you?’

Ron nodded.

Hermione felt herself tremble slightly. This… this was happening, then. Ron was going to massage her. Oh, god.

‘O-okay.’  

The two of them exited the room, and climbed the long winding staircase through the burrow. As they passed the bathroom, Hermione grabbed some towels. The first glimmers of a plan were already forming in her mind.

‘I’ll wait outside while you get comfy. I forgot the oils from the bathroom anyway.’

‘Okay. I’ll… I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’

Hermione entered the room, and shut the door behind her, locking it magically. She didn’t want one of the Weasley children accidentally walking in on her.

She removed her jumper, and was just about to lie down on the bed, when she stopped.

If Ron really did see her as more than a friend, how far did it go? He was certainly aroused by her the previous evening. But was that just due to the physical contact?

She wanted to know; did he… desire her?

_Well, there was no better time to try out Ginny’s advice…_

~~~~~~

 

A few minutes later, there was a knocking on the door.

‘‘Mione? You all ready?’

‘Yes, Ron. Hang on just a moment.’

She undid the locking charm on the door, and laid down -face first- on the bed.

‘Okay. I’m ready.’

Hermione heard a click as Ron opened the door.

‘This oil should be okay for this.’ Ron said, as he closed the door behind him, locking it with a flick of his wand. ‘I remember that Charlie used to use it for Quidditch injuries…’

Ron trailed off. There was a long pause.

Then…

‘‘M-Mione… what are you doing?’

Hermione felt her face burn.

‘I’m lying down, Ron. For the massage. What does it look like?’

‘W-well, from my perspective, it looks like you’re… not wearing any clothes.’

That wasn’t strictly true. Hermione had a towel wrapped around her bottom half, so that her bum was covered. But it was true that she was topless.

‘Wasn’t… wasn’t it just your shoulders that were aching?’

She couldn’t help noticing that Ron’s voice was an octave higher than normal. Interesting.

‘N-no…’ Hermione stammered, not daring to look round at him. ‘My back is too.’

‘You… you didn’t need to… get… get n-naked.’

‘Sorry- should I-?’

‘O-only if it makes you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t want you to feel nervous.’

‘I’ll… I’ll stay like this, then.’

‘O-okay.’

Why was Ron so accepting of this? Didn’t he think it was weird that his female best friend was lying basically naked in front of him, ready to him to massage her? Did… did he really not see her as a woman? No, that would ridiculous. Ron’s stammering had disproved _that_ idea in an instant. He knew she was a woman. Very much so, in fact.

But did he see her as a woman he could… desire?

Swallowing her nervousness, Hermione plucked up her courage. It was no good for her plan if she couldn’t enquire further.

‘Ron, can you start, please? I’m starting to feel cold.’

‘Y-yeah!’ Ron exclaimed, sounding just as nervous as Hermione felt. ‘Let me just get the oil sorted.’

There was the sound of Ron uncapping the bottle, and his hands rubbing together as he worked the oil into his palms.

‘Sorry if my hands are a bit chilly.’

And -with that- Ron dropped his hands onto Hermione’s shoulders. The effect was instantaneous; the knot of tension seemed to dissolve at his touch, and Hermione felt her body relax.

_God, no wonder she had been so tense earlier… why hadn’t she ever asked Ron to do this before?..._

Ron’s gentle hands softly kneaded the muscles under her skin, taking great care. For someone as strong as Ron, he was unbelievably tender when he wanted to be. The pads of his palms were surprisingly soft, despite the calluses from his days as a Quidditch player. Hermione had felt Ron’s hands many times before (especially in the previous few weeks), but this was different. Ron was massaging her bare skin, leaving warm sensations as he went, and he was _very much_ conscious this time.

_Oh, if only he could never stop massaging her like this…_

Hermione let out a moan. Startled, she hurriedly bit down on her lower lip. Had she seriously just _moaned_? What was wrong with her? Ron would think she was some kind of pervert! What kind of person moaned while their best friend massaged their shoulders?

Ron’s hands stopped abruptly.

‘Are… are you okay?’

‘I’m… I’m fine. Keep going.’

Ron’s hands resumed their work, beginning to work their way down Hermione’s back, and moving away from the relative safety of her shoulders. This… didn’t feel quite so platonic anymore.

No-one had ever touched Hermione in quite this way. Yes, she was just getting a massage, but Hermione’s body didn’t seem to see it that way. As Ron’s gentle hands slowly worked their magic, she felt her breathing becoming long and deep. Her mind was struggling to string a thought together, and all she seemed able to focus on was the feel of Ron’s hands kneading her back, and the way the oil helped his skin to slide softly across hers. _God, that felt good…_

Ron’s hands dipped lower, and –as if by accident- a single finger grazed the very top of her arse.

Hermione let out another soft moan, and her belly seemed to fizz. Oh god, that burning sensation was back. _How did Ron manage to do that?_ All he had done was delicately touch her bum, and she felt as if her entire world had been shaken to its very foundations.

God, she wanted that feeling again. She wanted to touch her more, in as many places as possible. She wanted⸺

‘Your… your shoulders and back should be okay now.’

Reality crashed down on Hermione. Oh, she forgot; this was just a massage. Ron had simply offered to help her out with her shoulder pains. Nothing remotely sexual. He had just been a good friend, and here she was, acting like a hormone-crazed teenager.

Trying not to let her disappointment overcome her, Hermione turned her head, and what she saw promptly blew all other thoughts out of her head.

Ron was standing a couple of feet away, and was clearly looking in the exact opposite direction from where she was. His face was a boiling scarlet. Matched with his hair, it looked like his entire head was on fire. In all the time she had known him, Hermione had never seen Ron look so incredibly flustered. And not just flustered, either. The look on the face was that of a man who was struggling to maintain his own self-control.

That did it.

Before she could overthink anything, Hermione moved. Wrapping the towel she had been laying on around her non-existent chest, she sat up on the bed, and stared over at Ron.

‘Ron… are you okay?’

Ron’s eyes snapped over to her at the sound of her voice, and his face became even redder.

The redheaded man couldn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away from her. His blue orbs roamed over her face, as if he had never had the chance to look at her before. His gaze seemed to burn her, but not in an unpleasant way. Hermione could feel the blood roaring in her ears, and her heart pounding frantically against her chest.

And that was when it happened. Ron’s eyes (working seemingly on their own accord) flicked down to her chest.

Hermione trembled. Ron certainly didn’t think her chest was as non-existent as she herself thought.

But Ron wasn’t lusting after her in the brutish way that -say- Cormac McLaggen had done to the female students at Hogwarts. Ron’s gaze was softer… tender… like a lover. Like he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms as he⸺

Hermione refused to follow that line of thought any further, for fear of completely losing her sanity. Not to mention the fact that she was (at that moment) virtually naked in front of the man in question, except for two very thin towels.

‘I’m… I’m sorry, ‘Mione.’ Ron stammered, a look of pure self-loathing appearing on his face. He pulled his gaze away from her, and stared furiously down at his feet. ‘I shouldn’t be… leering at you like that. It’s not right of me. You’re my friend and I… I…’

‘It’s okay, Ron. You said yourself, remember? We’re two adults now. This sort of thing can happen. I don’t think anything less of you for it.’

‘Still… I… I shouldn’t be eyeing you up like a piece of meat.’

‘But… you’re not looking at me like a piece of meat, are you, Ron?’

Ron’s eyes met Hermione’s.

‘Course I’m not. But… I… I’m still a man, ‘Mione.’

Making sure the towels were tightly done-up, Hermione stood up, and crossed the short distance between them.

She had never felt more vulnerable in her life. But this was Ron Weasley. And she trusted Ron more than anyone else on the planet. She might not have been the most confident woman, but she couldn’t help but feel safe around Ron, even if she was virtually naked in front of him.

‘I know that. And I’m a woman, Ron.’

 

Ron’s eyes swept over her form, causing that peculiar burning sensation to reappear between her legs, licking at her insides, quickening her breathing, and causing her to perspire.

 ‘I’m… very much aware of you being a woman, ‘Mione.’ Ron breathed. ‘You… you don’t know what you’re doing to me.’

Those words ignited a memory inside Hermione’s brain. A memory that had been half-buried by sleep and forgetfulness. The words Ron had spoken after he had tucked her into bed… barely a few weeks ago. But it felt like a different universe.

_Did… did that really mean what Hermione thought it meant?_

‘Ron….what… what do you mean by that?’

Ron’s face seemed to flush even further.

‘‘Mione, I… I can’t… you’re too… and we’re…’

Ron pulled away from her, a look of internal frustration on his face. Reacting instinctively, Hermione reached out, grabbing his hand.

She hated that look of indecision and hopelessness on his face. Ron always doubted himself so much. She knew how capable he was, but he never seemed to give himself any credit. Thanks to growing up with so many older brothers, he’d never been especially able to explain his own emotions properly. It had caused so much confusion when they were teenagers. At the time, she’d incorrectly assumed he just wasn’t emotionally mature. But Hermione knew better now; wordy declarations of emotion weren’t Ron’s style. He had always been emotionally mature; probably more than she could ever be. But the difference between them was this; Ron’s language was by actions, not by words. Actions were how Ron Weasley showed his true feelings.

If she wanted to know Ron’s emotions, she knew what she had to do.

‘Ron… don’t tell me, then. _Show me_. P-please.’

Ron stepped closer to her, fixing her with a gaze that left her speechless. His eyes were full of warmth, and a hard, blazing look that sent shivers down her spine and caused her stomach to explode with butterflies.  

The flames licking at Hermione’s insides were spreading, engulfing her legs and her upper body. She was now breathing in short, heavy gasps, and her chest was heaving.

Ron -his eyes boring into Hermione’s- put out his hand, and gently placed in on the part of her hip that the towel was covering. His pale, freckled hand contrasted beautifully with her own warm-bronze skin, separated only by a single towel.

Hermione swallowed loudly, feeling a deep shiver go through her very being as Ron’s hand sent tingles throughout her body.

Ron took a step closer. He was now so near that Hermione could count the eyelashes surrounding his beautiful blue orbs. There was barely an inch between their bodies, and Hermione felt the towel covering her chest lightly graze Ron’s abdomen as she breathed out. The hand on her hip began to softly press into the skin. Every inch of Hermione’s skin seemed to be perspiring. Within Ron’s eyes, Hermione could see her own flustered and panting expression reflected. Ron took a single step closer, and Hermione could almost hear his heart pounding against his chest. Her own breath hitched. Ron’s hand began to move -almost imperceptibly- up her side, brushing her bare skin as it reached the top of the towel.

‘ _‘Mione…_ ’

‘ _Ron⸺_ ’

**Knock. Knock.**

_NO! Not again!_ Hermione internally screamed, as the atmosphere between herself and Ron popped like a balloon. _Why can’t everyone just leave us alone for five bloody minutes?!_

‘W-who is it?’ Ron asked, his voice much deeper than normal. Hermione’s heart ached with disappointment as he (almost reluctantly) removed his hand from her side.

‘Sorry, dears,’ Mrs Weasley’s voice broke the silence. ‘Just wanted to let you know that we’re having fish for dinner.’

‘Oh, t-thank you, Molly.’ Hermione stammered. ‘We’ll be down in a minute.’

‘No rush, Hermione, dear. I know how much young couples need some time to themselves.’

Hermione would have laughed at the irony of those words, had she not been feeling like her heart was going to break into a million pieces. She was so confused! What was going on? This seemed to happen every time she was alone with Ron!

_Speaking of what had just happened…_

Hermione felt her chest continue to heave, as she struggled to regain her composure. This wasn’t normal. Not even by their standards. _This kept happening._ Whenever they were alone.

It couldn’t mean… _that_. Could it?

Surely it had been just the atmosphere? But it didn’t feel like that to Hermione. The atmosphere didn’t explain the way Ron had been staring at her, and certainly didn’t explain the way he had put his hand on her hip.

‘M-Mione?’

‘Y-yes?’

There was a sudden awkwardness in the room, as they both seemed to remember that Hermione was wearing nothing but a couple of towels. Ron’s ears seemed to burn red again, and he cleared his throat.

‘We’re… we’re probably going to be expected to hold hands at dinner. We might even have to cuddle at some point.’

‘Oh. Right. That’s fine. I don’t mind.’

‘Cool. Okay. I’ll… I’ll wait outside while you get changed.’

Ron moved to the door. However, Hermione couldn’t help but notice that his trousers looked very tight. He was walking funny, almost as if his trousers had suddenly become too tight for him to walk normally.

No, that wasn’t right. The front of his trousers weren’t just tight.

They were _throbbing._

Hermione felt her thighs tremble. As Ron closed the door, she sat down hurriedly, desperately trying to control her breathing. She was perspiring worse than ever, which did little to help the oily texture that her back and shoulders not exuded. Her entire body was flushed.

Taking her wand from the bedside table, Hermione cast the water charm, and carefully rinsed the oil off, before hurriedly drying herself with the towel. Sure, not all the oil had been removed (her skin still seemed to have a slippery texture to it), but she at least felt a bit more like herself.

Well, even if everything else had confused her, there was one thing that she couldn’t be confused about, no matter how much she tried.

Ron clearly desired her. He saw her as a woman, and desired her. In a… sexual way.

_God…_

Hermione pushed her thighs together, taking deep, heavy breaths. The burning sensation was continuing to lick her lower body. She tried to think about anything else, but all her mind kept coming back to was the way Ron had looked at her, full of intense, burning… _desire_.

Oh, dear.

This redheaded man was going to be the death of her.

~~~~~~~

 

After she had finally calmed down, Hermione went to her bag, and pulled out the clothes Ginny had suggested.

It was a simple blue dress. Nothing especially flashy or revealing, but it was beautiful nonetheless. If Hermione didn’t know any better, she could have sworn that Ginny had picked this dress because of how much it reminded Hermione of Ron’s eyes. Right down to the way it seemed to sparkle in the delicate light shining through the windows.

Hermione opened the door, and stepped out into the corridor, where Ron was waiting. She struggled to keep her eyes away from the Weasley man’s lower half, but he seemed to not even notice her flusteredness as he looked at her.

The redhead’s eyes widened.

He stepped closer.

‘How… how do I look?’ Hermione stammered, feeling very self-conscious. Now that she knew Ron possibly… _desired_ her, she almost felt like she wasn’t sure how to be herself around him. She knew Ron too well to worry that he would act inappropriately towards her. But she didn’t know whether this new realisation about Ron would change the way she saw herself around him. 

His eyes never leaving her face, Ron reached out and tenderly stroked Hermione’s cheek with his thumb.

‘So… so beautiful.’

Realising what he had just said, Ron immediately turned bright red again, and dropped his hand. Hermione herself felt like all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs. _Oh, god…_

Ron cleared his throat, not quite looking Hermione in the eye.

‘Er… I’ll… I’ll just go get changed, then.’

‘O-okay.’

Ron hurriedly darted past her, into the bedroom. As the door shut, Hermione leant against the wall, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breathing. Was he really going to act like… _that_ all the time now? Not that she was complaining, but she felt like she’d had a heart attack at the barest amount of physical contact with him. How on earth was she supposed to handle this?

After what felt like seconds, he emerged, wearing a waistcoat over a shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms. Hermione felt her stomach flip over again. Good grief, he was gorgeous enough as it was without this; how was she supposed to stay sane when he looked like _that_?  It just wasn’t fair!

She was clearly staring at him, because the tips of Ron’s ears went red again.

‘Do… do I look weird?’

Hermione shook her head rapidly.

‘N-not at all! You… you look very handsome.’

Ron raised an eyebrow, flashing her that lopsided smile that always turned her insides to mush.

‘Handsome, eh?’

‘V-very much so, yes.’

There was a pause.

‘H-Hermione?’

‘Y-yes?’

Ron’s Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed.

‘E-earlier… after that massage…’

Hermione waited, with baited breath.

‘Did… did I make you… uncomfortable?’

‘N-no!’ Hermione squeaked. ‘If… if anything, you made me _too_ comfortable!’

‘R-really? Cause if I ever crossed a line⸺’

‘You didn’t. Your massage was great, by the way. I loved every minute of it.’

‘Are you sure? Every minute?’

‘ _Every single one_.’

Ron’s mouth broke into a nervous smile, and Hermione felt herself finally relax. The tall redhead took a step towards her, and offered his arm to her.

‘Hermione Granger, may I have the honour of escorting you to dinner?’

Hermione giggled, feeling like a smitten teenager at a dance.

‘You may indeed.’

Linking their arms together, the two of them descended down the staircase, and into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was in the middle of serving up the evening meal.

~~~~~~~~

 

The food was traditional Weasley family fare; a steak casserole with heaping’s of side vegetables and gravy. The sort of food that always left a wonderfully warm feeling in Hermione’s stomach. It was one of the reasons why the Burrow had always seemed so inviting to her as a teenager, aside from the promise of spending time with a certain redheaded best friend.

The redheaded best friend that had massaged her naked back barely an hour before.

But Hermione wasn’t going to relive that particularly lovely memory at this present time. Especially not when she was surrounded by Ron’s relatives. Her revisiting the memory would have to wait, at least until she was alone again.

After they had finished eating, Ron casually wrapped his hand around Hermione’s again. Her stomach giving a happy flip, Hermione smiled from behind her goblet of pumpkin juice. She felt positively giddy.

Sneaking a sideways glance at Ron, Hermione couldn’t miss the easy grin that was threatening to overcome the neutral expression Ron was struggling to maintain.

Hermione’s heart fluttered. He really seemed to be enjoying this. Even if they were just pretending.

But these thoughts were drowned out by the excitement caused by the arrival of desert. Which happened to be Jam Roly-Poly.

Surprisingly, Ron didn’t let go of her hand. Despite being right-handed, the redhead instead picked up his spoon with his left, and began awkwardly eating.

Hermione couldn’t help but feel her heart pound happily against her chest. Was… was Ron really that happy to hold her hand? Being one of several children, Ron had always had a mercenary attitude towards his food at family members. So why would his usual one-track mind about food fail him on this occasion?

Maybe there was something more important to him.

Hermione’s stomach quivered at the thought. No, that couldn’t be right. Ron was just doing this to keep the allusion going. Nothing more. There couldn’t be anything more. Surely. Obviously. Why would he ever fancy her? He didn’t desire her.

Well, that’s what Hermione used to think.

But now?

She just wasn’t sure.

~~~~~~

 

The chatter over the deserts gradually stopped, and Ron’s parents began collecting the plates, helped by Bill and Fleur.

George clapped Ron on the back.

‘I believe the little ‘un wanted their uncle Ron to show them a few rounds of chess.’

He indicated Victoire, who was eagerly grinning up at Ron from her seat along the table.  Ron grinned at his niece.

‘Okay dokey. Anything for the princess. I’ll be back in a bit, ‘Mione⸺’

Ron pressed his lips to Hermione’s in a quick peck, before climbing out of his chair, and following George and the cheering Victoire out of the kitchen. As he took one last look at Hermione, his ears seemed to turn pink once again.

Hermione felt like she was hyperventilating. He’d just… _kissed her_! Out of nowhere! Was he going to do this throughout the weekend? Merlin, she hoped so, but she wasn’t sure her heart could take it.

‘Hermione, dear, come with me into the sitting room for a moment.’

‘E-er, yes, Molly, of course.’ Hermione stammered, struggling to look like she hadn’t just had her third kiss (maybe fourth, if that one under the mistletoe counted?) with the man she loved.

Climbing out of her seat, she followed Mrs Weasley through the ground floor of the Burrow, and into the sitting room. It was a comfy, cosy sort of room, and Hermione could remember the hours she had spent her as a teenager, staying over during the summer.

Molly sat down on the sofa, patting the seat next to her. Hermione did so, and Molly pulled forth from the end table nearby an old photo album.

‘You see, it’s something of a tradition for me to show my children’s significant others their baby and childhood pictures.’

‘O-oh, really?’

Hermione felt guilt course through her. She hated lying to Molly.

However, Muriel was currently sat in a chair not far away, with a very shrewd impression on her face. Deciding it would be prudent to avoid the guilt bubbling in her stomach, Hermione fixed her mouth in a warm smile.

‘Here you are, dear.’

Molly handed Hermione a wizarding photograph. It wasn’t from Ron’s childhood, but she could tell that Ron hadn’t quite become an adolescent just yet. His face still carried some of his puppy-fat, despite him being so gangly.

‘And I think you recognise that person over there.’

Hermione blinked. It was _her_. A younger version of herself was smiling out of the photograph. Good grief, had her front teeth really been _that_ big before she’d had them shrunk?

‘This is from the first time you stayed with us. Do you remember? In the summer of nineteen-nighty-four?’

‘Of course. Before the Quidditch World Cup, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. You know, from that time, I knew that you and Ron were meant for each-other. Look at the way you keep staring at each other.’

And (sure enough) the younger versions of herself and Ron were sneaking glances at one another. Always just missing the other person’s gaze, but always with the same look at fondness. Obviously, the look on her own face was already the beginnings of her love for Ron (her crush had been there since second year, of course), but… was Ron’s gaze really filled with the same feeling? She’d never noticed at the time that he had even been looking at her? Had she really missed all that? How could she not have noticed Ron staring at her like… _that_? Was Molly being serious? Had Ron always been looking at Hermione like that?

‘Here’s one of Ron as a child.’

Hermione was pulled out of her own confusing thoughts, as she was handed another photograph. This one was a great deal older, and was clearly dog-eared from how often it had been looked at.

A small redheaded boy was smiling up at the camera. He couldn’t have been more than three years old.

‘He always was a beautiful little boy.’ Molly reminisced, smiling fondly at the picture. ‘Always smiling. Always wanting to help.’

‘He hasn’t changed much in that regard.’

Molly smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

‘That is true,’ she said, nodding in agreement. ‘I suppose you know that better than most.’

Hermione found herself blushing.

‘Y-yes, I suppose I do. N-not as much as you, of course, Molly, b-but⸺’

Molly chuckled, patting Hermione on the arm in a motherly way.

‘I understand, dear. You don’t have to explain things. I was young and in love once, too.’

Hermione’s heart expanded with affection for the older woman. Molly had always been such a lovely person. Almost like a second mother to her. Hermione felt positively rotten for lying to her like this. She wanted nothing than to tell Molly how sorry she was for lying to her, but she knew she couldn’t. Hopefully, Molly would eventually forgive her. And if she didn’t… well, Hermione didn’t want to think about that. It was too painful. 

‘Oh, here’s a baby picture.’

Another –much smaller photo- was pushed into Hermione’s hands, and she felt her heart beat with affection as she stared down.

The small baby that was staring out of the photograph was too cute for words. Shaking his fat fists around, his blue eyes were wide and joyful.

Baby Ron Weasley. So young and innocent. A beacon of light against the dark world around him. As he had always been to Hermione. Except that he hadn’t started to cloud it in self-doubt and insecurity, as he had already started doing by the time Hermione had met him.

But here he was; his optimism and bright nature, there for all the world to see. 

‘You must have been so proud.’

‘I was. I still am, actually.’ Molly replied. ‘Although, I was always worried that he would end up getting lost in the shuffle, with so many siblings. He was never any trouble, you see, but sometimes I think that was because he knew everyone-else was so difficult.’

Hermione listened, her heart aching. Being an only child, she had never entirely understood the unique pressures that came with having so many siblings. She knew it couldn’t have been easy for Ron, especially considering what a sensitive and emotionally-open person he was. As a teenager, he’d always felt like he never stood out from his siblings’ shadows. Thankfully, this seemed to have disappeared after the war, but scars like that never truly healed.

‘I was worried for a long time that he’d never really be able to step out of his brothers shadows,’ Molly continued, echoing Hermione’s own thoughts. ‘That he’d think the worst of himself. That he’d never be happy. But he is. He truly is. Especially when I see him looking at you.’

Hermione felt her heart race. _Was that really true?_

‘Oh, now this one you must _not_ tell Ron about.’ Molly’s face took a slightly giggly look, as if she was handing over blackmail material. ‘No one likes their partner to see pictures of them in the bath as a baby, but still…’

Hermione was handed a small photograph. However, before she could see anything more than red hair on the baby’s head, the photo was snatched away by the real-life Ron, whose face was a boiling scarlet.

‘Mum, you can’t just show Hermione pictures of me like… _that_! It’s embarrassing!’

‘Hermione’s your fiancé, Ron. You’re being silly. She’s likely already seen you naked anyway⸺’

‘Mum!’ Ron’s face had gone a violent shade of maroon. He looked like an over-baked pumpkin, albeit a very attractive one. ‘Can you see you’re embarrassing her?’

Molly turned her head, and noticed the flustered expression now on Hermione’s face.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, dear.’ She exclaimed, looking worried. ‘I understand this must be difficult, hearing your partners’ mother talking about this⸺’

‘N-no, I’m fine, Molly! I appreciate your concern! I was just… feeling a little tired, that’s all.’

‘Maybe you should go up to bed early, dear?’ Molly suggested, her voice now concerned.  ‘I’ll get the bed made up for you; be back in a tick.’

Molly disappeared out of the room, and Hermione heard her climbing the staircase.

Ron sat down next to Hermione, putting his arm around her shoulder.

‘You sure you’re okay, love?’

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione stammered, trying not to concentrate on Ron’s hand squeezing her shoulder softly, or the fact that he had just called her “love”. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m sure I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.’

‘As long as you’re comfortable.’

Why did Ron have to be so lovely? Hermione knew he was mainly doing this to keep Muriel off their tracks, but this was just going too far. Only a day before, they had shared their first kiss, and now they were acting like an engaged couple. Hermione didn’t know if her heart could take all this. Especially considering how everyone wouldn’t shut up about Ron being in love with her since they were teenagers.

_Well, if they were this far along anyway… and they pretending to be a couple…_

‘Not as comfortable as I’d be… like this.’

Swallowing her embarrassment, Hermione climbed into Ron’s lap, and laid her head against his chest. She felt Ron stiffen slightly, and his heartbeat seemed to rapidly increase.

However, he clearly got over this within seconds, since one of his hands began to stroke her back softly, and his kissed the top of her head. Hermione smiled into his chest, feeling a combination of happiness, excitement, worry and embarrassment. But mostly happiness. She was sat in the lap of the man she loved, and he certainly seemed to have no problems with her doing so.

Listening to the steady beat of Ron’s heart, Hermione felt herself drift away, surrounded by the warmth of the redheads’ body.

~~~~~

 

‘‘Mione…?’

Hermione blearily opened her eyes. Ron’s blue sapphires started down at her.

‘S-sorry… did I…⸺?’

‘You drifted off. Feeling better?’

‘Y-yes. Why am I⸺?…  Have I been lying with my head in your lap?’

Ron nodded.

‘It’s no biggie. You slept like a log. Well, a gorgeous log, anyway.’

Hermione snorted.

‘Oh, don’t give me that…’

‘It’s true, love. But -then again…’⸺ Ron’s eyes glinted happily⸺ ‘I am biased.’

Hermione smiled up at Ron, and he smiled down at her. His blue eyes twinkled, and Hermione struggled to remember why she had even fallen asleep anyway. Was it really important anyway? It didn’t seem so, especially when Ron’s lopsided smile was twinkling down at her from above, like the sun on a beautiful summer day.

‘Oh, is Hermione awake?’

Molly’s voice reached them, and Hermione instantly remembered where they were. In the Burrow’s sitting room. No doubt, with many onlookers.

‘Y-yes, Molly, sorry about that.’ Hermione stammered, reluctantly sitting up out of Ron’s lap. ‘I must have dozed off.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, dear.’ Molly smiled. ‘I used to fall asleep in Arthur’s lap all the time when I was your age⸺’

There was a chorus of retching noises from Ron’s assembled siblings, who were all spread out over the various chairs and sofas. Luna –who was sitting nearby- chuckled happily to herself, putting down the Gobstones that she had been playing with Ginny. Aunt Muriel was also sat nearby, but -as she stared at Ron and Hermione-  her beaky eyes looked far less suspicious than previously. Were… were they really that convincing as a couple? Hermione tried not to smile at the thought.

‘Spare us, mum.’ George groaned. ‘Besides, it was funny watching the lovebirds getting all cosy. Didn’t realise Hermione could smile like that, to be honest⸺’

‘Watch it, you git!’ Ron exclaimed, angrily. ‘No one asked you to stare!’

George raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously.

‘What was it Ron called her again, Ginny?’

‘A gorgeous log, wasn’t it?’

George and Bill both sniggered. Percy looked a little confused. Charlie -by contrast- looked utterly nonplussed and grinned cheerfully.

‘Knew you’d inherited the Weasley flirting skills, little bro.’

‘Now, George, stop that!’ Molly said, firmly. ‘Ron, I think you best take Hermione up to your old room so she can get some sleep.’

Ignoring the winks that both Ginny and George shot their way, Hermione stood up. However, her head seemed to spin, and she stumbled. The lights of the room around her seemed to glare angrily at her.

Before she knew quite what was happening, Ron had his arms around her, and was supporting her.

‘‘Mione, you okay?’

Feeling goosebumps erupt up her arms where Ron’s hand were firmly (yet gently) holding her, Hermione nodded.

‘Sorry. I must have slept a bit too much.’

‘You think you can climb the stairs?’

‘Er… well…’

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure why she trailed off. Maybe it was something to do with the Ron’s touch causing deep feelings of calm within her. Maybe she really had gotten too tired earlier? No. It _was_ Ron’s touch was causing it. But she found it difficult to complain.  

Reacting in a way that almost seemed instinctive, Ron lifted Hermione up, her feet dangling uselessly off the floor.

Hermione felt her stomach jump about a foot, and her heart seemed to have nestled into the back of her throat.

Acting as if she weighed less than a new-born kitten, Ron shifted his hands around her in mid-air. Hermione felt the blood begin to rush in her ears. One of Ron’s hands was now behind her back, whilst the other was gently supporting her by her thigh.

Ron was carrying her like a princess. _Oh, god…_

The last time he had done this was when they had escaped from Malfoy Manor during the war. She barely remembered much of that godforsaken night, but she did remember the feeling of Ron’s strong arms supporting her, and hearing the steady pounding of his heart against his chest as he cradled her to his torso.

But this was very different. She was fully conscious, and wearing a thin dress that provided little of a barrier between Ron’s hands and her own skin. Hermione tried to focus on something else, but (although there was a rising of eyebrows from Ron’s siblings) no-one spoke a word. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Ginny and Harry smirking.

Ron’s ears turned faintly pink, but his expression wasn’t embarrassed so much as… bashful. Like he was trying not to think much about what he had just done. Did… did that mean that he was as flustered as she was? Hermione’s heart seemed to increase in size at the very thought. He clearly desired her, but what was currently happening wasn’t sexual in nature. It was romantic. And Ron was flustered by the idea. Just like he had been with every romantic-coded thing they had done in the past few weeks.

Hermione felt hope erupt in her heart.

All of this seemed to happen within the space of barely a few seconds, but it seemed like time had slowed down. However, reality quickly reverted back to normal, and the universe began running at its usual speed.

Carrying her in his arms, Ron swiftly left the room, and began climbing the stairs. His muscles seemed to barely tense as he carried her up the long staircase.

Once again, Hermione was struck by just how gentle Ron was. He wasn’t carrying her in a rough way, but instead as if she were made of porcelain. The arms carrying her were exceedingly gentle, and she could once again hear the soft thud of his heartbeat against his chest. The goosebumps that had erupted up her arms at his touch had long since disappeared, replaced by a warm feeling of safety. Even the hand carrying her under her thigh caused her no embarrassment, although she felt a delicate tremble reverberate through her being as his fingers clung ever-so-softly to her skin, despite the material of the dress.

This felt… right. But when had it ever felt wrong to be physically close to Ron?

‘Sorry about the teasing, ‘Mione. They… they’re just messing around.’

‘It’s… it’s okay, Ron. I was half-expecting it, to be honest.’

‘Still… I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’

‘I’m never uncomfortable around Ron. You… you know that, don’t you?’

Ron flashed Hermione a smile, and the bushy-haired witch felt her stomach flip over. She rested her head against his chest, and closed her eyes, concentrating on the steady heartbeat and the wonderful Ron smell that was emanating up her nostrils.  

This was nice. And now she would spend the night sleeping in the same room as Ron. They weren’t sleeping in the same bed, of course, but she felt happy that she could go to sleep hearing the gentle sounds of Ron’s breathing a few feet away on the camp bed.

They finally reached the landing outside Ron’s room. Ron pushed open the door, and carried her inside. She was only really aware of the sounds of Ron’s footsteps on the floorboards beneath his feet, the softness of Ron’s hands against her skin, and the sound of his voice as he began to talk absentmindedly. Gently, he bent down, laying Hermione onto the bed, and Hermione felt soft sheets beneath her.

‘Now, I’ll get my pyjamas and get changed in the bathroom, so don’t worry about me-WAIT, WHAT?!’

Hermione blearily rubbed her eyes with her hand, and Ron’s room swam into focus around her. Her heart went into her mouth.

Ron’s room had been obviously transfigured since they had last been there. The camp-bed has disappeared, as had Ron’s bed. In their place was a large double bed, with a simple white bedspread and warm fleecy blanket thrown over the top. A bed that Ron had laid Hermione down onto without even realising the change in scenery.

‘W-what? How?’

‘Oh, I see you’ve seen the change of sleeping arrangements.’

Mrs Weasley had appeared in the doorway, carrying two mugs of cocoa on a tray.

‘Mum, what is going on?’ Ron exclaimed, his ears burning red. ‘I could have slept on the camp-bed⸺’

‘Ron, you and Hermione are engaged. You’re already used to sharing a bed. Besides, that old camp bed isn’t very uncomfortable, and I know how bad your back gets from working in WWW.’

Hermione was vividly reminded of what Molly had said earlier. That Ron and Hermione had likely already seen each other naked. Well, that was partially true. Ron had seen her naked, save for a few towels. But that had been different. And she had slept in the same bed as Ron before. But -again- that had been different. She had been half out of her mind with worry from nightmares.

It hadn’t been… like _this_.

And certainly not barely a few hours of Ron seeing her naked, and being… aroused by that. And Hermione had to admit that she had felt… something in that small room as Ron had put his hand on her hip, and stared into her eyes with such feeling.

She would be spending the night sharing a bed, not with the boy who she had been certain would never see her as a woman, but with the man who she was beginning to suspect had always seen her as a woman. The man who adored her, and desired her. Possibly even… (Hermione’s heart hammered at the thought)… the man who _loved_ her. And it was looking increasingly likely that he didn’t just love her as a friend, or even as a best friend, but as a man. The same man that Hermione had been in love with for all these years. The man who had once been a dirty-nosed boy on the Hogwarts Express. But that young boy had long since gone. And so had the large-toothed young girl who had barged into his carriage on that fateful September day.

Ron was now a man. Hermione was now a woman. This had changed so much. How much more could change?

Well, their relationship certainly seemed like it was.

As Hermione took a mug of cocoa from Molly, her eyes flicked over to Ron. As their eyes met, his ears instantly turned pink. Sipping her cocoa, she was acutely aware of how small and cosy the room was. Hermione would be here with Ron for the next ten hours at least.

Molly closed the door behind her as she left, leaving a very pregnant silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the red flush creeping up the back of Ron’s neck. He was nervous too. That was understandable. If it had been three weeks ago, Hermione would have assumed it was simply embarrassment that he was in such close proximity to her for such a long time. But -after the events of that day- Hermione’s old assurances didn’t seem so sure anymore. If Ron really did desire her, then… what did that mean for the two of them spending the night in the same bed? Especially considering that she now knew that he desired her in the same way she desired him. But… was there anything more than that?

Everyone seemed to be under the impression that Ron was in love with her. An impression that Hermione was starting to run out of assurances against. He clearly saw her as a woman. He didn’t see in just a platonic way. He thought she was beautiful. He thought she was kind. He always seemed to understand her, even when she herself didn’t. He genuinely cared for her, and would do anything to make her happy.

So where did that leave them?

Ron Weasley. The riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a hand-knitted jumper. Was it possible that he (the most wonderful man she had ever met) could love her? In the same way she loved him?

Hermione could feel her own cheeks glowing again. And the flames between her legs seemed to reignite.

‘S-so…’ Ron stammered, his blue eyes blinking rapidly, as if the sight of her was dazzling to him. ‘I… I guess this is it.’

Their relationship was teetering on the edge of something; the events of the entire day had proved that. But _what_ it was that they were teetering into, she just wasn’t sure. Regardless of what could happen, this night would be pivotal. Whatever it was, it would start within the confines of that small attic bedroom. With just the man she loved for company. 

Hermione swallowed. There was no turning back now.

‘Y-yes, Ron. I suppose it is.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading; hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you did, please leave kudos and/or comments! The next chapter (once again) is expected to be published in around a month and a half's time. Please subscribe to the fic if you want to read the updates as soon as they happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! If you enjoyed it, please leave kudos and/or a comment!


End file.
